Tainted Love
by pxradise
Summary: What if one girl made it out of the library at the Westfield High shooting? And when Tate meets her again when she moves into the Murder House, they fall in love, with her medication blocking out the 'bad memories.' Will she still love him when she remembers the horrors of that day and the truth comes out?
1. Chapter 1: His Eyes

**AN: The shooting happens in 2013 instead of 1994 to avoid confusion and to make this easier to write since this time frame suits the plot a lot better. Please review because I wrote up the whole chapter on my phone and it all deleted so I had to re-type it which took a long time :( It would mean so much if you guys even just left a line, thankyou so much for taking time out of your day to read my story, will up-date tomorrow! Also, I'm going to use all characters in Murder House apart from Violet as I think it would be a better read if the parents of my OC are Vivien and Ben. Enjoy and please please please review! x**

**Tainted Love: a love you have for someone else so deep that it feels like it should last forever, but can't for some complicated, unfair reason.****Corrupted love.**

His eyes were the last thing she saw before it all went black, and her last conscious thought that there are worse things to look at as you take your last breathe.

Dakota Myers was wealthy, beautiful and popular. She was everything anyone would want to be, and she knew it, because when she laughed everybody laughed and when she smiled the whole world smiled back at her.

People didn't know what lay in her eyes, all the emotion that she hid under fake smiles and makeup. She didn't think anybody could understand her. But when she saw Tate Langdon's eyes, though they contrasted greatly with her sea blue ones, being an extremely dark indescribable colour, kinda like melted chocolate, it was like looking into a mirror. Almost. She saw the same pain she felt in her own, but there was a certain darkness in his eyes unlike her own that she didn't quite understand. It scared her, she had to admit to herself.

Dakota didn't exude confidence, but she certainly had enough of it in her to strike up a conversation with pretty much anyone in the school. Anyone but him. Something about those dark eyes looking into hers as she spoke to him was too much. Tate wasn't a jock, nerd, goth, punk or loner... He liked being alone, by choice, it seemed, so although he didn't seem to have or want friends, he didn't exactly qualify as a loner. With his looks as mysterious demeanour, he'd be popular if he wanted to be. At least with the girls, she thought to herself with a giggle and then realising she'd been staring too long. Giggling in a quiet library. At him. But he didn't seem to notice, lost in a book about birds.

Dakota should've have been in school that day. Her dad had insisted she go study an extra day in the library, and her mom had agreed with him. She didn't mind, though, because she'd decided today would be the day that she finally spoke to Tate Langdon.

Her heart began to sink along with her hopes of seeing him as she studied the clock more than anything else as it landed on 11:30. He was never late. Never. In fact, Dakota found herself worrying about him, then almost laughed at how ridiculous she was being about this and tried to focus her attention back to half studying and half listening to her best friend talk about their shopping trip this weekend and what dress she'd buy for the upcoming dance.

What could only be a gunshot rang out in the hall outside the library, shattering through Cara's words on dress choices and the dance. It was followed by panicked, terrified screaming and several more gunshots.

Before anyone could react, a punk rocket kid that Dakota knew as Kevin burst through the doors with blood on his clothing. He immediately tried to bolt the door shut with a chair and even pushed a small bookcase in front of the door, before announcing to the small amount of people in the library that "some kid" was shooting the place up.

Dakota immediately got to her feet to help him with his wounds, but he stopped her before she got too close. "It's not my blood- You have to hide, all of you, hide! Hurry!"

Dakota and Cara scrambled under a table at the back of the room to increase their chances of survival, which began to seem bleak as the shooter managed to shake off the chair from outside the door and the bookcase somehow fell away, too. "Shit," Dakota muttered.

They all watched in horror as the librarian was shot, trying to block the door and hold it shut. Then he walked in, every step slow and precise. He was taking his time, toying with them all. And they were sitting ducks, tables didn't do shit against shotguns, and they all knew it. Especially Dakota.

It began to sink in, even more so, as he stalked Stephanie Boggs between bookcases, a girl that Dakota had had issues with in the past and even recently. She resented Dakota for her fortune and the fact that she was well-liked. But right now, Dakota felt her heart breaking for the girl as the shooter whistled a slow, haunting melody that Dakota was sure she had heard someone whistle before and pushed several books off of the row of the shelf behind Stephanie's head, causing her to scream as they clattered and fell in a heap beside her feet. He knew where she was now, she'd alerted him of her location, though Dakota was convinced he already knew and was just trying to terrify her; as if killing her wasn't enough.

Her heavy breathing was abruptly cut off when he shot her. And she was dead.

The nerd who Dakota was pretty sure was called Amir was next, as he tried calling the police or anyone for help using the phone. The jock under the table with his cheerleader girlfriend had signalled to him to do it. Dakota and Chloe couldn't see Amir but they had a feeling he just knew he was going to die in the next few seconds when he stopped dialling, and probably looked up at the shooter. He didn't get a chance to beg.

Kevin pleaded for his life, looking up at his killer. This, the girls could see. They exchanged a look of sheet terror as the shot rang out.

Dakota held her breathe, eyes widened, as the shooter appeared to approach them. However, the jock decided to be a hero and told Tate to simply stop, that that was enough. Obviously, it didn't work. Then his girlfriend cried out in sobs, trying to be quiet, probably covering her mouth. They couldn't see, they could only hear and imagine what was going on feet away from them beyond the main office desk that was thankfully obstructing their view. Hearing her beg and sob as the shooter lifted the table that she had been hiding under sent tears rolling down Dakota's cheeks and she stifled a sob. Cara just closed her eyes tightly, allowing a few tears to be released but trying to hold most back.

"WHY?!" Chloe, the cheerleader half-cried, half-begged. Then she pleaded, and the gunshot rang out. She was gone. And that left only Dakota and Cara remaining. They exchanged a different kind of glance, somehow more terrified and panicked than the rest. Because they knew they were next.

He walked in the direction of the door and a flicker of hope shone in both the girls' eyes. But then he sharply turned on his heel left, around a table and back in their direction, and it was evident that he had been trying to give them that illusion of hope, to kill them emotionally first before killing them completely, playing with them like it was some horror film. That's exactly what it felt like to them. A horror film.

Sirens were approaching, but they felt too far away to do the girls any good. Because they were.

The shooter began to whistle that melody again, and he clearly knew exactly where they were. He paused before the table and the two girls clutched onto each-other. Dakota was the first to exhale a sob, as he grabbed the table. "No..." He pulled it up. "No!" It clattered behind them.

And she remembered where she had heard that song just as his face was revealed. That darkness was even more evident in his eyes. His expression changed slightly when he saw Dakota, his jaw set. His expression wasn't entirely empty, but intense, with purpose.

Dakota didn't really want to beg him for her life. It was pointless, wasn't it? She knew she wasn't getting out alive now. She hadn't accepted it, really, but she was aware. So she just stared up at him, frozen.

"Why do you wear long sleeves in summer?" He asked simply, his eyes flickering with curiosity, still clutching the shotgun tightly. They burned into Dakota like flames into her flesh. "I-I..." She stammered, she didn't want to reveal one of her biggest secrets to the boy who was about to end her life, but this was Tate. The thoughtful boy who liked to read about birds and was never late to school. _Who shoots up schools, _she reminded herself.

Cara sighed and grabbed her right arm, pulling up Dakota's sleeve, exposing her scars; some new, some old. He blinked, his intense gaze softening for a fraction of a second. Then it returned to what it formerly was. Dakota snatched her arm away from Cara and shot her a glare, frowning. How had Cara known and only thought to show it now? To him? It wasn't like he'd let them walk out of here because she had a few cuts on her arm.

He loaded one bullet into the gun, and it made the bolting, snapping noise that shotguns make when they're loaded. One bullet. Why one? They both realised that only one of them was surviving this, and one wasn't.

Panic set in and it became real to Dakota when he did that, staring right at her as he did it. "Why do you like birds?" She asked shakily. He had glanced down at the gun and his penetrating gaze snapped back to Dakota. "You always read books about birds. I always thought there was something special about you. Your eyes, too, they're so dark and beautiful. And you're never late. I thought- I thought today I'd finally pluck up the courage to talk to you, but you were late."

Cara glanced at her friend in confusion, surprised by this revelation.

"'Cause they can fly away when things get too crazy, I guess," he answered after a few seconds, thoughtfully, almost softly.

"I like birds, too," she found herself almost smile, almost. Then she remembered that he was about to kill her.

Tate didn't look quite guilty, though his expression changed. It was... Conflicted, definitely.

Hope sparked up in their eyes again. It was shattered when he raised the gun at Dakota, aiming for her head. She didn't drop her gaze from his eyes and somehow managed to lock it there. She exhaled shakily, trying to prepare herself for the hopefully brief moment of pain awaiting her. "God, no, please don't, please!" Cara begged for her friend's life. "It's okay," Dakota closed her eyes and nodded, her voice heavy with tears. "It's okay Cara, I'm okay." She opened her eyes and stared back up at Tate, waiting for the bullet. "Just kill me. P-please just do it, okay? Just kill me!" She cried, getting angry as he made her wait, seemingly intent on making her death as horrible as he could possibly make it.

At the last second, he turned the gun on Cara and before the bullet could get to her, Dakota threw herself in front of her friend. It hit her in the chest, just below her collarbone but above her heart. She screamed, but didn't realise that it was her own voice making that sound until a few seconds later. It sounded so foreign to her.

"Dakota, Dakota, no..." Cara whimpered, stroking her friend's hair after pulling her head onto her lap gently. Dakota looked up at her friend for a second and managed to smile, she'd saved her. It was worth it. Then she closed her eyes, hoping she'd drift off soon and all the pain would stop. "No, don't do that. Stay with me, c'mon. Don't you leave me. Don't you dare!"

Tate watched blankly, wiping his face of his initial shock and regret. He didn't regret it anymore, he couldn't. Nobody could stop him for doing this, not even himself. It was ironic, really. Nobody could have stopped Dakota from saving her friend, either or attempting to.

Cara didn't notice Tate loading another bullet until he cocked the gun. Then she looked up, and he shot her right in the heart. Where the original bullet should have went.

Dakota somehow snapped back to her senses when her friend's hold on her fell limp and her body fell back. She blinked her eyes open and glared into his, until her brief look of hatred was replaced by one of sheer fear and horror. Then she scrambled back from him slowly but surely, wincing with every movement until her head bumped against the table that had, minutes ago, sheltered them from him and his bullets. He stepped toward her and her whole body trembled violently, blood soaking her shirt. The cops should be here by now. But they weren't.

Tate crouched down and took her other arm in his hand gently. She flinched and tried to pull away, sobbing uncontrolably at this point, but he pulled her sleeve up to reveal similar scars on her other arm. Then he met her eyes and she was shocked to find remorse in his. "I'm sorry." His eyes were the last thing she saw before it all went black, and her last conscious thought was that there are worse things to see as you take your last breathe.


	2. Chapter 2: Like a Ghost

**No** **reviews yet but I'm updating anyway aha. Please review? It would mean a lot! Flashbacks will be written in bold text to avoid confusion, I'll try and include one every two chapters at least? Idk how many to type up but I'll write it in if I think of anything. Enjoy this chapter and even just leave me a quick line as a review? Thankyou! x**

**WARNING: If you self harm then one part of this chapter could be a trigger for you, so please be careful. I don't personally and have never self harmed, so I probably won't include it in chapters that often but this time, for the sake of the story, I am. I can't understand something I've never experienced myself but I tried my best to interpret how it feels briefly here, although I may go into more detail in the next few chapters. I don't know how much self harm I'll write about since I don't want to mis-interpret it although I understand it as well as I could for someone who has never done it. I don't mean to basically just make my OC Violet, but I need a few more chapters to fully develop Dakota, so please be patient about that. Thankyou so much for reading, and again, please review! Also, I did use a scene from the show here, I'll try not do that again but some lines/scenes are too good and fit too well not to use aha. Sorry for the long AN! This chapter is kinda short, the next one will be way longer though! X**

Dakota sighed as she unplugged her earphones and decided to contribute to her parents' conversation as they approached the house they'd be looking at. "So, we're definitely doing this?"

"Nothing's definite yet, honey," Vivien replied softly before Ben could say a word. Because if it wasn't definite, then his chances of keeping his family would start to look a whole lot bleaker. She noticed that he frowned slightly at Vivien's answer, was that hurt in his eyes? After what he'd done to them, Dakota saw him as lucky to even be here with them.

She rolled her eyes. "See, mom, that's the problem. Nothing is _ever _definite with this family, and I hate it."

Vivien sighed. "My mother is very sick, Kota, your grandma doesn't have long left and she needs us-"

"I know," Dakota cut her off. "What I meant is: are you and dad gonna stay together after Grandma dies? Who am I gonna be staying with? Are you going to end up pregnant by the end of this year or is it going to be another one of dad's slutty students?"

"Dakota!" Vivien snapped, a stern expression on her face.

Ben tried to focus on the road, but felt like it was his responsibility to fix this one. "We both love you very, very much, Kota. But we have to be here for your mom right now, and for Grandma. I know this must be difficult for you, and I understand that, we're going to help you through it-"

Dakota huffed and shoved her earphones back in carelessly, drowning them out. She didn't want to hear it anymore, her dad's patronising shrink talk or her mom's excuses. It was all bullshit, as far as she was concerned. Taking her back to the place she was shot and almost killed, pretending it was completely for Grandma when really it was just the perfect opportunity for her dad to win her mom back, or at least attempt to. All bullshit.

Soon enough, they reached the house. Dakota thought about making an Adams family sarcastic remark, but suppressed the urge. Deep down, she wanted to be in a happy family again. She wanted to be a happy girl again. She had been getting there in New York, but then her dad had to have sex with some student of his after her mom had a pretty brutal miscarriage. All of this had happened after the shooting.

The shooting. She had went into shock after it, almost died, apparently. She didn't remember any of it, really. She had agreed to see a big shot therapist, and take pills every night to keep the memories locked away where her mind couldn't experience them. It was all for her parents, at first, and then for herself when she realised that maybe she didn't want to remember what had happened to her and 15 other kids. Including her best friend, Cara. She was still in denial at the fact that Cara was dead, but it wasn't her fault. Sometimes the pills confused her, sometimes her mind confused her. Sometimes everything confused her. The world has a way of doing that to you, especially after you're almost shot dead in your own high school.

Sometimes memories returned to her and haunted Dakota in her dreams, but she could never remember them when she woke up, and sometimes, considered refusing to take the pills anymore. But the truth was, she was terrified by what caused her to wake up in a cold sweat, screaming at night, and deep down, she didn't really want to know. Besides, now didn't seem like the best time for that, moving back to the general area that it happened in. The neighbourhood that Westfield High was in.

In fact, she'd have to go back there in a few days to finish up on some exams before graduating. She pushed the thought of that away, and joined her parents and their yapping dog, Harley inside, following Marcy the realtor. Marcy rambled on about the history of the house with a fake smile plastered to her face the whole time, and Dakota tuned out, studying the place carefully. The decor was... Unusual, but pretty damn beautiful in it's own way, she decided.

Harley began yapping violently and before even being asked, Dakota followed the sound of her dog to the basement door, intrigued. "The basement, huh?" She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes as the door creaked open mysteriously.

There was a heavy, ominous feeling in the air of the dark room as she carefully stepped down the staircase, stopped at the last step when her mom called her and turned on her heel with a huff of disappointment. She had kinda wanted to explore this place a little more, and assumed they were going to go home to their current house and leave this wonderful, mysterious place forever. Something was holding her in here, and she hated the idea of leaving the house, for some strange reason that she couldn't comprehend or describe.

"Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I must inform you of the history of this house," Marcy began, almost sounded regretful, like she wished she didn't have to tell them.

"Don't tell me someone died in here," Vivien laughed slightly, smiling genuinely for the first time in a long time. Her expression fell flat at Marcy's answer.

"Yes, actually," Marcy replied, her lips pursed in a firm line. She knew she'd lost the sale when Ben's expression mirrored his wife's.

Dakota strolled in, upon hearing this. "Where'd it happen?" She asked nonchalantly.

"The basement," Marcy answered.

"We'll take it."

**one week later...**

Dakota wasn't exactly thrilled about her life being completely uprooted yet again, in less than a year, but there were worse places to be living.

She lay in her bed, listening to her music loud until her dad told her he had a patient coming and asked her to turn it down, so reluctantly, she did. The song was "Don't Panic" by Coldplay, and it calmed her. She was meant to be studying, but Dakota felt distracted. When she was unpacking, she'd found an old picture of her and her friends. They'd lost contact when she left, a few weeks after the shooting. Would they still be here? Would they still want to talk to her after she survived and Cara didn't?

She never understood why people cut themselves. Not until she started. She just wanted to feel something, something real. And it made the pain go away for a while. She didn't do it often, but the scars added up. She shouldn't even be alive, yet she was, and she was finding herself wishing she wasn't more and more often these days. Seeing that picture sent her to the bathroom, cutting herself again for the first time since the shooting took place.

The first cut stung, but she started to feel a temporary calmness wash over her. She started to feel better by the third time, until a voice she could swear she'd heard before caught her completely off guard.

"You're doing it wrong."

Her eyes flitted up to the mirror, and she gasped slightly, startled, meeting his eyes in the reflection.

"If you're trying to kill yourself, you cut vertically. They can't stitch that up."

"H-how'd you get in here?" Dakota spun to face the familiar, mysterious boy.

"If you're trying to kill yourself," he paused, staring at her intently. "You might also try locking the door."

He left her speechless. She frowned at how soothing his voice was, despite the fact that he was instructing her on how to kill herself.

She stood frozen for a few seconds, then opened the door and scanned the hallway for him. Nothing. He had just disappeared... Like a ghost.


	3. Chapter 3: Perfect Person

**AN: Thankyou both for your wonderful reviews and constructive criticism: Cloudcity'sBookworm and Zelda Zonkk! I agree with what you both said and I'm going to really try to develop Dakota's personality and what makes her likeable and unique in this chapter, I hope you like it and I'd be happy to hear what** your** thoughts are on it :)**

Dakota took a deep breathe before walking through the front doors of Westfield High for the first time since the shooting. It was strange, really, how something that she could remember next to nothing about could affect her so much. Then again, she _was _returning to the place that it had happened. It was perfectly fine to be anxious, right?

Wrong. This was all wrong. Dakota had to be confident and she had to be perfect. She had to be that one girl liked by everyone who did no wrong to anyone. All she wanted was to be liked, and she had been; but not for who she really was. Dakota had been liked by most people because she was confident without being a self- righteous bitch and because she had money, of course. She had the best style, the best clothes, the best everything. She was the best. All morning Dakota had been attempting to convince herself that she still was. It wasn't working- perhaps because it simply wasn't true.

The old Dakota didn't take deep breathes before entering a building and she certainly didn't walk in alone, either. She didn't like to admit it to herself, but she felt lost without Cara by her side. Cara had technically been her sidekick, but she had always viewed them as equal in the friendship and ignored how others didn't. It was a rare occurrence for Dakota to not care what others thought of her, but she couldn't let it get in the way of a perfectly secure friendship that she had enjoyed for years. So she didn't.

For a moment, Dakota's mind wandered back to the mysterious boy from yesterday and how dark and different his eyes had been...

Eyes. She felt so many of them following her as she walked in, and not in the way she was used to. Most of them seemed to be glaring. Why would they glare at her? What could she have done?

Dakota should have tried to get in touch with her old friends, but she had been afraid to, in all honesty. Maybe they would resent her, but the whole school? That wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

Her first class was Physics, and she couldn't concentrate, especially with Sophia Boggs glaring through her. Dakota felt like she could shatter under such an icy, hateful glower. She wasn't sure how much longer she could take it, when the harsh ring to signal the end of class rescued her. It almost sounded heavenly, in this situation. Almost.

Dakota stopped at her locker and closed the door to reveal Sophia standing at her right, inches from her face. "Shit," she muttered, jumping slightly. Then she regained her calm, confident demeanour; or she at least attempted to. "Hi, Sophia. It's great to see you again."

Sophie laughed dryly, sending an involuntary shiver down Dakota's spine.

"I would say the same to you, except I wish you were dead."

Dakota blinked, trying to process what she was hearing. "Sophia, I'm so sorry about your sister, I really am. I know we didn't always seem to get along and-"

"Bullshit. You're a fake, Dakota Myers. My sister knew it from the start, and she wasn't the only one, you know," Sophia spat. "And you got what you deserved, my sister didn't. It should have been you with your brains blown out in that library, if you even _have _any."

Dakota looked down, trying to remain calm. She couldn't afford to lose it, not here, not now. Sophia was grieving. She was angry. Dakota could deal with her insults right now, she'd have to.

"You can't even fucking look at me," Sophia snorted. "You know what? I wouldn't be surprised if you were involved, if you planned the whole thing, maybe that's why you're so damn guilty looking."

Before she knew what she was doing, Dakota had punched Sophia square in the face. She winced at the crunch she heard, but her rage refused to fade. She wouldn't just stand here and take these accusations. Insults were bearable, but this? She couldn't handle this, she couldn't allow it.

"You're right on one thing, Sophia," Dakota snapped, which she didn't let herself do often. Her perfect, gentle little girl reputation couldn't be tarnished. But she was beginning to realise something: maybe it already was...

"It fucking should have been me. It should have. It shouldn't have been your sister, it shouldn't have been Amir or Chloe and it sure as hell shouldn't have been Cara, or anyone else killed that day. But it was. It was, and you have to try to accept it. I haven't even accepted it yet, and you know why? Because I lost someone too. I lost someone too!" Her voice gradually got louder until it had attracted a crowd of shocked teens. However, it cracked at the end, and tears began to roll down her cheeks. Her mascara was running, and she didn't look perfect anymore. Because she wasn't perfect. Maybe it was a good thing.

With that, Dakota turned and ran to the bathroom, leaving a stunned and bleeding Sophia behind.

By lunch, the whole school was discussing the incident with Sophia from earlier. It was a good feeling, not really having anything to lose anymore. _Let them talk, _she thought. _I can't be kind, honest, beautiful, flawless... I'm not. I'm more flawed than most of them. The sooner they realise it, the better._

"Dakota, you need to come get some food," Sasha, one of Dakota's former friends appeared at the seat beside her. "And you don't have to sit alone. You got mad, and if I'd have been there, I would have helped you get out of that situation before things got ugly."

Dakota glanced at the girl beside her, she couldn't decide if she was a friend or a stranger right now. "Things are already ugly..." She trailed off, then swallowed back tears and turned her body to face Sasha. "I meant to call, I did. I was just... Scared. I thought you'd all hate me because I got out alive and Cara didn't..."

Sasha said nothing for a moment and held Dakota in a tight hug. "I could never hate you, Dakota. You'll always be my friend. Always. You might have gotten out alive, but you didn't leave the same person as you were when you walked in."

Dakota tensed up at that, and Sasha released her.

"But it doesn't mean you can't become that girl again," Sasha smiled warmly. "Shopping trip this weekend? Florals are _so _in right now."

She masked her disappointment with a fake smile and a nod. Great. She was already back to fake smiles and shopping trips. That was the thing about Sasha, she could go from plunging into a deep conversation in the middle of the cafeteria to discussing fashion trends in a matter of seconds. She had been understanding at first, but Sasha was wrong. Dakota could never be that girl again. She didn't even know who 'that girl' _was _anymore.

Thankfully, Dakota was as good at acting as she was faking. These two talents combined make a damn good actress. She was sure these skills would be useful to her, especially in the next few weeks as she endured Sasha's boy band and magazine talk. Nodding and smiling wouldn't cut it, she'd have to be creative with her responses in order to convince Sasha that she was still worthy of her friendship. Wow. This was shaping up to be a damn good week; and it was only Monday.

Dakota decided to dispose of her blades, and it was easier than most people would find it. She realised there was no logic in hurting yourself to be rid of some kind of pain, since it would only lead to more pain in the end. And that was enough for her, so she got rid of them.

With a weak smile, she turned around from the trash can in her bedroom, making a mental note to dispose of the can's contents before her parents did. She stumbled backwards a few steps when she found the mysterious boy from yesterday standing before her, accidentally knocking the trash can on it's side. She cursed and knelt down to put the blades and other trash back into the trash can.

"I wasn't trying to kill myself," she muttered, focusing on the trash and not him. Or at least pretending to be.

"I know," he replied, sitting down beside her, legs in a basket, his tone soft but clear. It commanded her attention, despite it's almost warm sound.

"Yeah?" She sounded irritated, looking up at him and finding herself quickly reverting her attention back to the trash. His eyes were so dark, looking into them felt like staring into a black hole. There was something incredibly familiar about them, it was unsettling. And they were dangerous. "How would you know that?"

"Because my scars are the same," he lifted his sleeve and gained her attention again. It wasn't like he ever lost it, she just couldn't handle his intensity right now. They were indeed similar to her own. "I didn't want to die either."

She narrowed her eyes. _"__Didn't?" _

He blinked. "What?"

"You used past tense, therefore implying that you're... Currently dead," she laughed slightly, at how ridiculous her statement sounded. He didn't return the laugh. She looked down again.

"No, I was implying that I used to cut myself too, but I currently don't and haven't for some time now," He replied smoothly, was his tone a tad offensive?

Without warning, he pulled one of her sleeves up and studied her scars briefly, before she pulled away. She shuddered, too, it felt like... Almost like he had done that before in a much darker place. But that couldn't be possible, since she'd only met him yesterday.

He looked apologetic, but he didn't say he was sorry. "Most of them are old, right?"

Dakota nodded slowly, cautiously.

"You stopped and started again. What makes you think this time it'll be different?" It wasn't an insult, just a question.

Dakota chuckled at this whole conversation. "Why are you so damn interested in my scars? And why are you seeing my dad?"

"Why are you so damn interested about me and my psychological issues?" He shot back with a smirk.

_Because you keep appearing behind me in my own house and telling me things about myself that I already know. Because you're probably a psychopath who could kill me right here and now if you really wanted to. Do you want a list? _

"Because you're an interesting person, and that's a rare thing to find these days."

She hadn't completely thought that through, though it was the truth.

"I'm Tate," he smiled, and she set the trash can back to how it used to be.

"Dakota."

"So, is my dad a better therapist than he is a father?" She asked, sarcasm very much alive her tone, but she was mostly asking out of sheer curiosity.

Tate shrugged. "He listens to some pretty weird shit I say and he tells me I'm not crazy. He can't lie to me, and it's good to know you're not crazy."

Dakota nodded, though she didn't know that feeling. She was convinced that she was crazy, though she didn't strike most people as a... Crazy person. But how do you define the term 'crazy'? You don't, because you can't. Dakota believed that that was because everybody's a little crazy, some just more so than others._  
_

"You ever get that feeling... Where you just know you can't be the perfect person people think you are or want you to be and-"

"You eventually don't even want to be that person anymore?" He cut her off, but she didn't mind. She could get used to this boy finishing her sentences for her. Tate seemed to understand her in a way that no-one else could already, and they'd only met twice.

"Yeah, that's the one," she replied with a smile.

"All the time..."

**AN: Okay, so I'm starting to develop Dakota's character a bit better in this chapter, I think. Please let me know what you guys think of this chapter and if you have anything in particular that you really wanna see in the next one, I'd be happy to hear it and write it in for you :)**


	4. Chapter 4: Pain

**AN: Thankyou so much again, you guys! I'm so glad I disappoint you with that chapter! I couldn't be more pleased with your reviews, encouragement and guidance!**

**This one is probably going to be the last one where things move so slow and Dakota is verging on having a tiresome amount of self-pity. I just really wanted to show her vulnerability in these first few chapters and introduce her while playing around with the character a little. Next, her and Tate's relationship will progress steadily and you'll see how she becomes resilient and overcomes her problems. More dramatic things will start happening, and I'll hint more about how quickly Tate is starting to care about her and at the remourse he feels about the shooting in general, or at least about shooting Dakota and putting her through what she went through and continues to go through after it all. I hope this chapter is as good as the last one, let me know if there's anything particular you'd like to see happen next or if there's something you'd like to see more of in the next chapter.**

**Also, I'm sorry this is such a long AN haha. Enjoy this chapter!**

Dakota couldn't help but feel a little excited about this. Someone who knew how she we feeling, who understood it. A _boy _of all people.

"You know, all this _stuff _happened between my mom and dad after I survived being shot and I can't help but wonder if it's my fault, sometimes. You'd think they'd be pretty damn happy I'm still _here._"

"They're not happy you're alive?" Tate asked, perplexed.

"No, they're glad I'm alive, they just used to be so _happy. _It's different now..." She sighed. "Everything's different now. People seem to hate me because I got out of the school shooting and the other kids didn't. I punched this girl in front of my locker, her sister died in that library. She started insulting me, and that was okay, but then she accused me of being _involved._ My best friend died and I barely made it, and she thinks I had something to do with it."

"That's horrible," he said it with feeling, almost like he'd experienced it, too. "Westfield High, right?"

Dakota nodded. "You heard about what happened there?"

"Yeah, I mean... Everyone did," he glanced at the floor for a few seconds, but it didn't go un-noticed by Dakota.

"Hey, you wanna let me in on this messed up shit you tell my dad about? I could use a reminder that I'm not the only one with problems," she laughed softly.

"No," her dad appeared at the door with a frown. "He can't."

"Dad, I-" she began, desperately racking her brain for a decent excuse or something more reassuring than what her dad had just heard her say.

"Tate, you need to leave my daughter's room right now," Her dad had something more than a stern tone in his voice. She'd never seen him mad like this. He seemed annoyed, but... Inside, she could tell he was more than a little unhappy about this. "I don't ever want to see you back here."

Tate frowned, and stood up reluctantly. He said something in a hushed tone to her dad that Dakota didn't completely hear, but it sounded... Menacing. Threatening, almost. She didn't like him speaking to her dad that way, but she _really_ didn't like the idea of not seeing Tate again.

Her dad glared at him as he left, and Dakota was sure Tate was louder than he needed to be, running down the stairs.

"I never want to see you speaking to that boy again, Dakota," her dad turned to her. He really meant his words, she could tell.

"What'd he just say to you?" She narrowed her eyes.

"You have to stay away from him, Dakota, am I clear?" His voice was getting louder.

"What'd he say?" She persisted, knowing she shouldn't.

Her dad sighed. "He reinforced the fact that I had told him he has a fear of rejection. And he's right to do so, because you know what's going to happen when you do reject him? He's going to get angry and he's going to get upset, and if he ever hurt you I would never forgive myself. He's unstable."

"You told him he wasn't crazy," She shot back, tears gathering in her eyes suddenly.

"You can be sane and unstable, they're too very different things," her dad muttered. "Look, Dakota, stay the hell away from him, alright? If you don't, you're going to get hurt. I mean it."

"God, dad, he's not going to _hurt _me! And I'm not going to reject him, either. He's one of the only people who even _gives _a shit about me. Stop wrapping me in fucking cotton wool, I've had enough."

Her father seemed taken aback by her reaction, like it was completely out of character, because it was.

"God, I used to be so loved..." She burst into tears, and he wrapped her in a tight hug.

"Honey, you're still loved as much as you were before everything that happened to you and to us, okay? You're loved, Dakota. You're loved."

"Sophia Boggs told me I should have been the one with my brains blown out, and- and I agreed with her," Dakota murmured into his chest.

"No, honey, no... It's hurting you, being the one who made it out of there when Cara didn't, when the rest of them didn't, I can tell. But you can't let it eat you alive. You're not perfect, nobody ever said you were. You need to know that. You're going to be okay again, you're going to be okay..."

Dakota stared at the blades in the trash can behind his back. She could be okay again. She'd have to forgive herself, first, for what she'd done to herself. But she could be okay again. She could. It was also time, she realised, to stop with the self-pitying. She wasn't dead. She was lucky, and it was time to start acting like it.

The next day, after a somewhat un-eventful six hours at school that consisted of avoiding Sophia, who, in turn, seemed to be avoiding Dakota, and listening to Sasha talk. And talk. And... Talk. But surely it was better than being alone. That's what she was telling herself.

When Dakota returned to her room, she froze on the spot.

'You're gonna die in here' was written in block capitals on her blackboard. She rubbed it out straight away, then looked underneath her bed and in her wardrobe like a little kid checking for monsters. She found nothing.

"Mom?" Dakota headed into the kitchen to find her mother cooking. She sighed in relief when she found her mom safe. Moira was with her too, teaching her a new recipe.

"Hey, honey," her mom greeted her daughter with a smile, but a look of concern manifested itself in her features when she noticed that Dakota looked pretty shaken.

"Are you okay? Did Sophia Boggs start harassing you again at school, because-"

"No, it's just..." Dakota trailed off, then met her mom's eyes. She hated to see her worried. "Nothing. I have a bit of a headache, I should go lie down." She forced a small smile.

"Okay, Kota, let me know if you need anything, right?" Her mom wasn't completely convinced, but seemed satisfied enough with her answer.

"I will."

As Dakota turned to leave, she couldn't help but notice how worried Moira looked... Did she know something? No, that would be ridiculous. Of course she didn't.

When she walked back into her room, she felt her heart rate speed up within seconds. The same phrase had been etched into her blackboard again, very recently.

She frowned and her look of fear was replaced with one of determination. She'd find out who did this one way or another. She climbed onto the edge of her open window and scanned her empty yard, they must have climbed in through it.

"Looking for something?"

Dakota felt her body jump involuntarily, startled. She felt arms around her just as she was beginning to fall out and tried to scream, struggling when a hand covered her mouth. Whoever it was had a strong, tight grip on her and any efforts to escape it were useless. They gently turned her around, and she felt her back against a wall. She was sure it was Tate, since the voice sounded a lot like his, only... It sounded darker, somehow.

It was Tate. Of course it was.

_"Stay the hell away from him, alright? If you don't, you're going to get hurt." _

She should have listened to her dad. She looked up at him with wide eyes. His expression changed, softened, because she'd looked at him like that before and he was starting to remember it all too well.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Dakota," Tate said, gently but firmly. "But you can't scream, okay?"

She nodded slowly, still uncertain about him and his intentions.

He removed his hand from her mouth but still held her arm a little too tightly with his other one.

"Let me go, Tate," she glanced down at his hand on her arm and then back up at him. He released her and stepped back straight away. She took a breathe in relief, it was like she'd just shut down and forgotten how to let herself breathe until he let her go.

"What the hell was that?" She demanded.

His brow furrowed. "I was saving your life, you almost fell out of your window?"

"Yeah, because _you _startled me," she folded her arms and stepped away from the wall, sitting on the edge of her bed. "But... thanks," she added reluctantly, but gratefully.

"I couldn't let you call your mom, if you're dad sees me up here again he's going to stop treating me," Tate said, turning his attention to her blackboard.

"W-why did you write that?" She asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

He looked back at her with a frown. "I didn't..."

For some strange reason, she trusted him. How could someone who made her feel so terrified make her feel so safe in a matter of seconds? There was something definitely dangerous about this boy, but something else about him that was so comforting to Dakota.

Then again, who else could it have been? She couldn't let her guard down here.

"This isn't funny, Tate. Seriously, why'd you write it?"

Tate's eyes changed, could they have gotten a tone darker? That wasn't possible.

"I didn't write it, Dakota," he snapped. "I would never lie to you." His voice softened a lot and his eyes wet back to the colour of melted chocolate in a matter of seconds. It had to be some kind of illusion, her mind was playing tricks on her.

"... You wanna hear this CD I made?" She asked after a few seconds, reaching to grab it from her bedside cabinet.

The conversation flowed for an hour, and Dakota found herself hanging on his every word with close to nothing to say for herself, which was a pleasantly rare occurence for her. His words were like poetry, every sentence. Well, all but the ones where he described his mom as a "cocksucker". But she could deal with that.

They sat at the edge of her bed together, and she realised that she hadn't enjoyed a conversation like this in a long time.

Footsteps that were too heavy to be her mom's were approaching from downstairs, so Dakota quickly rubbed the sinister message from earlier off of her blackboard and turned around to exchange a panicked glance with Tate, who to her amazement, seemed to have vanished. Shrugging, she carefully climbed into her bed and pretended to be studying.

"Hey, honey, how was your day?" Her dad asked, and she smiled at him warmly.

"I can't say school is ever a positive thing, but it was tolerable," she laughed. "Pretty good, I guess?"

He smiled too, looking relieved. She always felt bad for her parents and even guilty, since they were always worrying about Dakota so much. But all parents seemed to, apart from Tate's...

"I told you that you could be okay again," he paused. "God, I'm so proud of you, Kota."

Why? All she'd done was go to school like she should and try not to make a habit of punching people. It wasn't that difficult. Dakota had to admit, she had a damn good dad, cheating on her mom and all aside. That was being an unfaithful husband, and although it had hurt Dakota, too, they had gotten through it.

"I'm proud of you, too, dad."

She wasn't being completely truthful, but she had felt obliged to say it. It was partially true, actually, since he'd given up everything to move away and buy all those pills so Dakota could temporarily escape the pain.

When her dad returned downstairs to see a patient, Tate poked his head out from under her bed. She burst into laughter.

Things really were beginning to look up around here.

The next few days continued to be uneventful, quiet and simple. Good things never seemed to last for Dakota, and her world started to collapse from the inside out again on Friday.

Dakota opened her locker and instead of being greeted with semi-old photographs of her, Cara and Sasha and of her and her family, she saw before her red, crimson blood. It covered her locker, and subsequently, her face and clothing. Some kind of somewhat basic, but evil trap had been set up, and the opening of Dakota's locker had triggered whatever had sprayed all that blood on her.

Afrer screaming before she could stop herself, Dakota saw a message written with the blood, it read: "you should have died in there."

Being eerily similar to the one she had found written twice on her blackboard, it caused her to take several steps backward. She slipped on the blood that had dripped onto the floor, and fell hard, hitting her head before anybody could catch her.

Dakota woke up a few moments later in the nurse's office, screaming.

A question echoed in her head, again and again, until it filled it.

**"Why do you wear long sleeves in Summer?" **

It was Tate's voice, definitely. But there was something... Dark about it. And it just wouldn't stop.

Before the nurse could her, she slipped out of a side door and ran home as far as her aching legs would carry her.

As Dakota approached the house, she felt eyes on her, and could swear she saw a figure at her bedroom window, watching. When she blinked, it was gone.

She shoved the key into the lock and roughly twisted it, bursting into the house.

"Mom?" Dakota called out in a wary voice. "Dad?"

No answer. The air became heavy and the temperature cold. The house felt all too empty and all too crowded all at once, or maybe it was just the feeling of her world falling apart. Hell, maybe it was both. Right now, it wasn't her main concern. The pain and the voices had to go before she could think about one more problem.

Dakota stumbled up the stairs and into her bedroom, grabbing a handful of sleeping pills from the medicine cupboard in the bathroom and a bottle of water from her backpack. She was half expecting to see someone behind her in the reflection, hoping it would be Tate; because she needed him right now. But nobody was there.

She glanced straight at her blackboard, and was relieved to find nothing written on it. Still, she downed the handful of sleeping pills and ignored the tears streaming down her now blood-free face and the sobs wracking her fragile body.

Wait, how many had she taken? Six, seven, _eight? More, maybe? _Shit. It had been a generous handful. She really should have taken a second to count. Panic coursed through her and she began to realise how much she didn't want to die. She just wanted the pain to stop...

"Throw them up," Tate appeared at her bedroom door, sounding angry. Disappointed. She couldn't disappoint Tate, too, she couldn't lose him.

"I-I can't... I need the pain to go away," she said in a small voice.

"Dakota, throw them up or I'll have to make you, and that's going to hurt more," Tate stepped towards her. "I don't want to, but you need to get them out of you."

"No, I'm okay, I didn't take too many, I swear," she said frantically, like she was trying to convince herself as well as him.

Tate sighed and shook his head, frustrated. She could tell she was making this difficult for both of them, especially him. But she just wanted to sleep and wake up somewhere peaceful. Not die, just... Wake up and walk into school and have a normal day like yesterday. That was what she wanted to do.

He gripped her arm tightly and pulled her into the bathroom, she stumbled along behind him. Just as she was starting to feel drowsy, he shoved his hand down her throat quickly, because there was no gentle way to do it, and she coughed all nine of the pills up and into the sink without protest. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't. He couldn't afford to give her a choice.

They were both sure it had only been nine that she had taken, and satisfied, he carried her back to her bed. "It's okay, Kota, you're okay. You're gonna be okay," he whispered gently, and for the second time in her life, his eyes were the last thing she saw before it all went black...


	5. Chapter 5: Get Out

**AN: Zeldazonkk: That was exactly what I was aiming for in this chapter, I'm so happy with your review and I'm really glad** **you**** like how the story is going!**

** Clouldcity'sbookwarm: I'm glad I'm doing well with Dakota and Ben's relationship, because it's an important part of the plot even though the story doesn't centre around it. I hope you like this chapter more :)**

**This chapter will be loosely based off of the episode "Home Invasion." I'm obviously going to change it up, though, and I won't copy the show. I used one of the lines from a different episode because I felt like it would benefit the story and I couldn't think of something that would really fit better or make the ending of this chapter as intense. I know it's sorta short but I hope the content makes up for it! Please review, thankyou so much for reading!**

When Dakota woke up, the blood stains had disappeared from her clothing, almost completely. Almost. There was just enough staining left to remind her that it had in fact happened. At least she knew who to blame for it. That had to be why Sophia had been tiptoeing around her until she could execute her little plan.

It was night outside, she could tell from the lack of light in her room from outside. She switched her lamp on and out of her peripheral vision, saw something written on her blackboard. Her stomach did what could only be described as a 'flip-flop' and she sat up and looked at her board.

One word was written on it: "TAINT".

"Huh," she tilted her head slightly, trying to work out what it meant. She was sure it had been Tate this time.

Well, a taint was something that would be left somewhere forever, usually. A stain? For some reason, she couldn't help but have a feeling he was referring to something other than the blood residue on her clothing, something more complicated...

Dakota got changed into pyjamas for the first time in a long time, she needed the comfort of the silk right now. It reminded her of better days and it just felt clean. They were a champagne colour, given to her as a gift from her mom on her birthday two years ago. One of the many gifts she had received that year, and possibly her favourite since it was an accurate representation of her mom: beautiful, simple and special. They still fit perfectly, somehow.

Dakota checked the time on her phone, it was 10 o'clock. There was also a message from Sasha about what had happened in school, but Dakota didn't feel like revisiting the subject right now and decided to reply tomorrow, instead. She felt like telling her mom, she had to talk to her about it... But then, she didn't want to worry her, so she figured it would be for the best if she didn't know for now.

"Mom?" Dakota walked into the hall.

"I'm just gonna get changed, honey, then we can watch a movie or something," Her mom called from her bedroom. "Dad's in Boston visiting a patient, we can have a girls night."

Dakota smiled. "Sure."

Then the doorbell rung, almost making Dakota jump. Who could it be, at this time?

"Dakota, don't-" her mom began, but Dakota was already halfway down the stairs. She thought it could be Tate, for some reason, maybe he was worried about her and decided to take a risk and come by. But then, wouldn't he find a less obvious way to get her attention? He never seemed to have trouble getting inside undetected any other day...

"I won't open it up, Mom, don't worry!" Dakota called up to her mom, who trusted her. They were close, and if Dakota told her she wouldn't do something, she wouldn't do it. It didn't mean her mom wasn't aloud to worry, of course, and something about this just felt... Off. Strange, to say the least. But her daughter had to be independent, and she was safe with the door locked.

Dakota peered into the spy-hole and frowned when she saw a woman with a bleeding wound at the side of her head.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm hurt and needing some help," she said it like she'd rehearsed it more than a few times. Dakota instantly felt suspicious.

"What happened to you?" She asked, sounding firm. She couldn't let herself appear to be weak to this woman, she just didn't seem genuine.

Something weird was going on. It had to be fucking Sophia's aunt or something, playing another twisted game with her. Well she was done. She was done with people playing games with her. She just wanted a quiet, calm night with her mom so they could re-watch The Notebook for the tenth time and cry.

"He hurt me, and he's going to stab me, please help!" The woman seemed desperate but not panicked, strangely enough. She didn't look like she actually feared for her life, so she was either a shitty actress or a remarkably fearless woman. But why didn't she say that in the first place? She had no sense of urgency about her when she had first spoken, so Dakota's instincts were correct to some degree; though she was disregarding her theory about Sophia being involved. This was something else entirely, but what?

"I'll call someone for you-"

"No, you have to let me in! He's out here! He's going to kill me and then he'll kill you and your mom!" The woman exclaimed, eyes wide.

"My mom?" Dakota narrowed her eyes. How the hell could she know her mom was with her unless she'd been watching her... And then it all made sense. It had seemed rehearsed because it _was, _and she _had _been watching them. That, or Dakota was about to watch "him" stab this woman at her front porch...

"Yes, Dakota, your mom," the woman smirked. There was something dark about her expression now. The act was over.

Dakota turned to go look for her mom, realising that she should have came down to find out what was going on long before now.

"Going somewhere?" A sinister laugh came from behind her.

Dakota whipped around and saw a guy with a sack with holes for only his eyes over his head standing four feet away from her, and she screamed loud, then turned and darted up the stairs. "MOM! MOM-"

She got to the fourth step and then he grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her back to the floor, and she blacked out completely after hitting her head.

Dakota's eyes flickered open, and the first thing she felt was a pounding in her head, then, looking up at three masked people, remembering where that pain had come from.

"Mom?" she said in a small voice, turning her head to face her mom who seemed to be unharmed but had her wrists tied in front of her, sitting on a chair beside Dakota, who was also sitting on a chair, though her wrists weren't tied. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" Dakota was more concerned about her mom than herself, it was obvious.

"Stop being so pathetic, we haven't done anything to her... Yet," The woman that had been at the door pulled off her mask and so did the other two. "But we have something planned for both of you."

"She's going to be Gladys," the other woman smiled, she looked younger.

Dakota's face was screwed up in confusion. "Who the fuck is _Gladys?"_

Her mom nudged Dakota and frowned, not only at Dakota's reckless choice of words but also at how sinister this was all beginning to get.

"Look, if you want money, you can have as much as you like, alright? Is that what you want?" Her mom asked, trying to seem calm for Dakota's sake. "Or if you want the house, or the car, you can take them, too."

"Take her upstairs," the woman from the door ordered the other woman and the man, ignoring her mom's efforts at bargaining."It's almost time."

"What? Time for what?" Dakota's eyes widened, and she jumped to her feet. When the guy gripped her mom's arm, she punched him hard, right on the nose.

"Bitch!" He raised his arm to punch Dakota back, like an immature child in a playground fight would. She braced herself for the pain, but the woman from earlier who seemed to be the leader of the trio stopped him by grabbing his arm.

"We're wasting time. Hurry," she grabbed Dakota by the waist and was surprisingly strong, holding her back as they took her mom away.

"No, let her go!" Dakota cried frantically. "Please take me, not my mom, don't hurt her, please don't hurt her!"

"I love you, Dakota, you're gonna be okay!"

Her cries quietened into sobs as her mom disappeared around the corner and up the stairs. But she noticed a flicker of hope in her mom's eyes when she began to turn that corner, and began to feel herself calm down a little at that. Her mom had a plan.

A few seconds later, the woman pushed her back into the chair. Her back slammed against it and she winced, but glared at the woman, carelessly wiping away her tears.

"You'll die, too, you know," she threw a white garment at Dakota. "Put it on."

Dakota glanced at the dress. It was a nurse's outfit. The woman threw stockings at her too. "And them."

Dakota stood up and threw them back at her, hard.

"No," she shot back defiantly. "It isn't fucking Halloween, and I'm not in the mood to play dress-up."

She thought that using sarcasm could buy her some time, maybe throw the woman off if she got her mad enough.

"You have to, everything has to be perfe-" She broke off when the lightbulb blew abruptly, without even flickering.

Dakota froze, waiting for something terrible to happen. It usually did, when the bulb blew. That was what it was like in most horror films, right? And her life was starting to mirror one.

She winced at the sound of a knife meeting flesh and the woman before her screaming in agony.

The knife stabbed into the flesh again. Another scream, more pained than the last one. And another.

"STOP!" Dakota screamed, and immediately the light somehow turned back on, causing her to blink several times to adjust to the sudden, drastic change of brightness, and also to confirm that what she was witnessing before her was really happening.

Blood was seeping through the woman's shirt, a dark scarlet stain... The knife was pulled out of her back, and her body fell limp, crashing against the floor, revealing the killer: it was Tate.

Dakota stumbled backward against the kitchen table, eyes wide in shock.

Tate looked... Un-affected. Numb. Until he cast his glance onto Dakota, of course. When he looked at her, it morphed into one of concern.

"Did she hurt you?"

She shook her head, noticing that he was still clutching the bloody knife.

"What are you going to do with that?" She asked shakily.

Tate glanced at the knife and then back at her. "You think I'd hurt you, Dakota?"

She really wasn't sure what Tate was capable of, after that. Definitely murder. But could he hurt her? Would he?

On an impulse, Dakota darted past him and upstairs. She heard him behind her, but she also heard him drop the knife. Knife or no knife, she had to admit that she was scared of him, especially after witnessing him kill someone right in front of her.

When she got inside her room, she slammed the door in his face. "I never wanna see you again!"

All of her dad's words about Tate echoed in her head, and she found herself wishing he was here right now. None of this would have happened if he'd been here.

She didn't mean what she was saying, she just needed time to think about what had just happened, what Tate had done... It was to protect her. But was that woman really going to do what she said she would? Surely there could have been a way to injure her but spare her life.

Since the shooting, Dakota had began to value life in itself and others' lives as well as her own more highly, and she just hated the whole subject of death. She was beginning to feel like she attracted it, brought it upon everyone around her, but not herself.

"Get out!" She cried.

For a moment there was silence.

"I care about you more than anything else in this entire fucking world!" He yelled, and she sobbed again, louder this time. "WHY CAN'T YOU SEE THAT?'"

Dakota's body trembled uncontrollably with more sobs, and she let her back slide down against her door until she was sitting holding her knees against her chest. "_Get out!"_

After hearing nothing for a few moments, Dakota took a deep breathe and stood up. "Tate?"

No answer.

She opened her room door. He was gone.


	6. Chapter 6: Black Lines

**AN:**

** Zeldazonkk: Ugh I know, I feel exactly the same about Tate. I still can't help loving his character even though I hate the things he did. I think he was right to kill the woman too aha, I just don't know if Dakota agrees with us or not ;) Thanks again for reviewing and reading every chapter, it means so much!**

** Cloudcity'sBookworm: I'm glad you enjoyed that chapter, this next one is much longer :) Yep, I'd probably react worse than Dakota, she seems to handle most things that happen to her better than a lot of us would!**

** Imagine Daydreams: Thankyou so much! I hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

"We found one body a block away, we believe she was one of your patients?"

Dakota listened from behind a wall, peering out every so often. The cops didn't seem to know about what had really happened. Good.

She wondered what Tate had done to the other two, but then again, did she really want to know?

"Yes, her name was Bianca," her dad nodded, concern evident on his features. "I never suspected anything, I mean, all of my patients have some issues; but nothing like this."

Dakota almost laughed, it was ironic, really. He hadn't the slightest idea about what Tate was capable of. Then she frowned, knowing he was only tying to protect her. But there was this... This darkness in his eyes. On his face. It was like she was looking at a stranger, not the thoughtful boy she knew- someone who terrified her.

"And your wife tells us you were in Boston, at the time of the home invasion?"

"Yes, I had to visit a patient. Ginny Blevins."

"And you used to live there?"

"No, we lived in New York. The patient used to live in New York but recently moved, her family requested that I come out; it was urgent."

The cops both nodded in unison, content with his alibi.

"You said they were reenacting a murder?" Her mom asked. She still looked shaken.

"Yes, they seemed to have a little club going..." One of the cops nodded. "They dedicated their time to planning this. They both fled."

"Wait a minute, they fled?" Her dad asked, his eyebrows knitting together. "That's the best you can do? How do we know they're not going to come back?"

The cops exchanged a glance. "We don't, for sure. However, it's extremely unlikely. The double homicide that they were reenacting took place in on yesterday's exact date in 1968. They won't return to your house because they have no purpose here, they practically sliced Bianca in half. They aren't as organised as they thought they were, and the chances of them coming back here are as slim as any other killer appearing at your door tonight. We're confident that you're all safe, but we have a reliable security company's card and we'd be happy to leave it with you for your piece of mind."

Dakota noticed her mom shudder. "They were going to drown me, and I just remember water running... But I passed out. I was so scared, for my daughter more than myself, of course. God knows what they planned to do to her. And you're telling me they're still out there?"

Dakota looked down, even though they couldn't see her. She felt so guilty for even going down to that door, knowing it would have happened the same way regardless. She hated the idea of her mom feeling like she was going to lose Dakota and there was nothing she could do about it. Which brought her back to Tate. He _had_ saved her life. Although seeing him the way she had sent chills down her spine, she couldn't help but wonder if he deserved another chance to be that gentle, caring boy she thought she knew again...

"Thankyou for your help, officers, we'll take that card please," Her dad said quickly, before tensions rose.

They left as Dakota walked in, and she beamed at her dad, brushing past them.

He embraced her in an tight hug.

"Dad, you're home!"

"He's not," her mom remarked dejectedly, and her dad broke off the hug.

"Vivien..." He began gently. "We can't just leave this place, we could be happy here! You know we could, we were getting somewhere, Viv! This house was getting us there."

"Before Hayden, we were happy, Ben," Her mom snapped.

And there it was. The source of all their disputes, of all the deep-rooted tension hanging over the three of them like thick, heavy, polluting smoke.

Dakota knew her mom wanted to refer to Hayden using something other than her name, but since Dakota was present, she resisted the urge to do so.

"We weren't_ happy, _Viv!" Her dad exclaimed in frustration. "You really wanna talk about that? How you cried yourself to sleep every night after our miscarriage-"

_"Our _miscarriage?" Her mom cut him off.

Her dad nodded, his anger building. "Yes, Vivien. _Our _miscarriage!"

"Oh, I'm sorry Ben, did you have to carry a baby inside of you for months and then deliver it? _Dead?!"_

"I lost my baby too!" Dakota looked up at her dad when he screamed those words, and realised she was getting sick and tired of hearing them argue about the same thing over and over like it was some competition on who was the least fortunate, who was hurting the most.

Before her mom could scream something back at him, Dakota stepped in between them.

"Have either of you stopped to consider how _I _feel? About this? About everything?" She asked, irritated. "No, you haven't. I lost my unborn brother, too, I lost my best friend, I lost _myself. _And I was just getting her back. But now we're uprooting everything again? Because something happened to us that shouldn't have, right?" She laughed at the irony of it. Most things that had ever happened to her and her family shouldn't have. "Because it was frightening? It was. You're right mom," she turned to her mom. "But who's to say something else frightening won't happen to us in our new home? Something we don't deserve... Like I didn't deserve to be shot and you didn't deserve to be cheated on."

Her mom stifled a sob and Dakota had a feeling that the last sentence had triggered it. She felt guilty immediately, and fought the urge to apologise and hug her mom. But she couldn't apologise for stating a fact and simply being honest with her feelings like they were, and she had to remain firm.

"Dakota, your father and I both love you very much, but it was a mistake to ever come back here. To force you to face all the horrible memories of what happened to you in that school, all of it... I can't stay here, and neither can you. We can't move on from what people did to us in this house if we stay here, either. I'm sorry, Kota, for everything, but we need to sell this house as soon as possible."

Dakota stared at her mom with dampened eyes and watched her leave the room. She went upstairs, probably to cry.

"I have to meet Sasha at the mall," Dakota said coldly, walking past her dad. She stared at the ground.

"Dakota, your mom said she saw Tate in our house when she was being taken upstairs," her dad said, frowning. "Why was he here last night?"

Dakota turned to face him. "Tate saved my life, dad, he distracted that woman before she could hurt me," she lied easily, which surprised her since she wasn't able to lie to her dad often. "I don't know why he was here, but I'm glad he was. You weren't. And I have a feeling that you weren't seeing a patient. Not that it matters, anyway, because you and mom won't stay together after this move. I know you won't."

With that, she left. As she walked out of the door, she realised that she didn't even think the lie through. She didn't have to. It was for Tate.

She also realised that despite her dad's alibi seeming convincing, there was something off about it... There was plenty of shrinks in Boston, so why would her dad go to extreme lengths to travel up there when his marriage was just beginning to seem stable...?

Dakota pushed all of the questions out of her mind, deciding to revisit them later. Right now, she wanted to relax and get away from it all. She smiled slightly, shopping and pretending to care about Sasha's latest gossip seemed like a good way to do that.

"So, there's a new guy in school," Sasha smirked as they browsed in a boutique store. "Perfect timing, don't you think?"

Dakota held out a white lace camisole and debwhets buying it. "I don't need a boyfriend right now... But you should flirt with him tomorrow, you'd be this year's cutest couple."

She internally frowned at her own words, she was sounding fake again. But she was with Sasha and she couldn't afford not to be right now. She had to keep this friendship going, or she'd be lonely again and she couldn't handle that on top everything else.

Sasha giggled. "I heard he wants you, though. You didn't even notice him on Thursday at lunch, he was staring at you the whole time. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to say something dumb at the time."

Dakota frowned at her. "I wouldn't have said something dumb, Sasha. I probably _looked _pretty damn stupid at the time, though. You should have just told me," then she paused and sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just- I have a lot going on right now."

Sasha nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, Sophia'll stop her shit, soon, though. She's just a loser with no real friends who thinks she can gain some by making people hate you. But it's not happening."

Dakota smiled weakly and nodded, though she hated to hear her 'friend' speak about anyone that way, especially Sophia. Sure, she'd been a bitch to Dakota, and had no excuses for torturing her the way she had and would probably continue to; but her sister was dead. It just didn't feel right, nodding along to what Sasha was saying. Yet she did it anyway.

"That's so cute, you should totally get it," Sasha commented, referring to the camisole.

Dakota nodded with a blank look on her face, feeling like she was somewhere else, all alone, despite being surrounded by people in a crowded place. But she faked a smile and bought $200 worth of clothes that she didn't even want.

When she got home, she noticed that her dad's office door was open a crack. And she heard a voice that she knew all too well coming from inside.

"Tate, I appreciate you putting yourself at risk to save my family, and I could never repay you for that... But I need you to tell me why you were in my house at the time of the break-in, when I wasn't at home."

"I know I'm overstepping boundaries by saying this, Ben, but you want me to be honest, right?"

She assumed her dad nodded, and she walked slowly and quietly towards the door, holding her breathe.

"I think about your daughter a lot."

She could tell her dad was beginning to get annoyed. "In what way, Tate?"

"In a lot of ways," he smirked. She didn't even have to see him to know. "I was outside her room, throwing pebbles at her window, you know? But she blew me off. Or at least I thought she did. So I was about to go home when I heard screaming come from inside, and then I knew I had to do something about it."

Dakota wondered if at that moment, he had known he'd be killing someone tonight. He couldn't have. Right?

"So I did. I distracted the woman who was going to hurt Dakota, and then the younger one ran away, for whatever reason. The other two followed her with an axe, and then I went home. I made sure Dakota was okay first, but I left as soon as I knew they were safe."

She heard her dad exhale a sigh. "I understand that you care about my daughter, Tate, but I can't treat you anymore. It's the best thing for everyone involved. Dakota is a complicated girl, and regardless, I wouldn't permit you speaking to her in my house or anywhere else. I'm sorry, Tate, but I can't see you anymore."

"No, you're helping me, Ben, our sessions are helping me a lot!" Tate quickly became upset, his voice shaking. "They really are, I mean it! Please, no more weird shit, I promise!"

There was silence for a moment.

"I can meet you for coffee at some point, Tate, but not in this house, alright?" Her dad eventually agreed, somewhat reluctantly. She could tell it was out of pity and nothing else.

Dakota knew that the session would end soon, and that she'd have to get out of sight before it did, and quietly.

She made her way into the kitchen, carrying her shopping bags. They rustled a little, but she couldn't be seen from where she was and that was the most important thing.

Tate made his way to the door, seemingly grateful, and Dakota's dad headed upstairs.

Hearing that door close made Dakota aware of something. She felt a sudden sense of panic, because maybe she really wouldn't see Tate again after today. On an impulse, she dropped her bags and darted for the door. Her heart sunk when he was nowhere to be seen, already gone; and her own words started to haunt her.

_"I never want to see you again!"_

She went back inside after thoroughly checking the whole block for Tate, but he had left without a trace, like he always did. Except this time, maybe he wasn't coming back...

Dakota felt tears rolling down her cheeks, and carelessly wiped them away with her sleeve before walking back into the kitchen. She was thankful that her dad wasn't aware of her being home yet, it would give her time to calm down... Or attempt to, at least.

She gasped when she saw a woman standing in the kitchen, raiding through her shopping bags.

"I wanna be a pretty girl like you," the woman who appeared to be suffering with Down Syndrome glanced up at her. "Can you teach me how?"

Dakota smiled. The girl seemed childlike and playful. She was harmless and gentle, she wasn't going to become violent.

"I think you already are, but I can show you where I bought my clothes sometime if you like them?"

"Adelaide?" a southern voice called from Dakota's backyard. It sounded like an older woman.

She walked in and instantly beamed at Dakota. "Oh my, you must be Dakota!"

Dakota smiled, trying to seem friendly and conceal her confusion. "Yes, that's me. Do I... Know you?"

"I'm Constance, your neighbour," the woman replied. "You don't have to take my Addie out shopping, dear, you'd be fortunate to stumble across anything half decent that fits her."

Dakota frowned and stared at Constance in disbelief.

"The pleasure would be mine," she replied dryly.

"Addie, time to go home, I left the cartoon channel on for you," Constance said, ignoring Dakota's offer. "And drop that. It's not for you."

Dakota couldn't help but feel like there was a deeper meaning to that last sentence. She didn't just mean that the dress didn't belong to Addie, she meant it wasn't _for _her.

For a second, Addie looked like she was about to protest, until Constance shot her a stern, warning glance. She dropped the dress and ran out of the house like a child, probably because Constance treated her like one.

"How do you know my name?" Dakota demanded, folding her arms.

"Addie has caught your mother by surprise a good few times already," Constance replied, studying the floral pattern on the dress Addie had been holding. "She told me she has a daughter called Dakota, I assumed it was you."

Constance lifted the dress and held it at arms length. "My, what a lovely sense of style you have."

"Thankyou," Dakota replied shortly, her patience beginning to wear thin with the woman. "Can I... Help you with something?"

Constance folded the dress neatly and placed it back into the shopping bag. Ignoring Dakota's question, she pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

"Do you smoke?" She asked curiously.

"I have... In the past," Dakota replied sheepishly, looking down at her feet.

Constance chuckled. "Oh, it's nothing to be ashamed of, Missy."

She held out the pack to her and Dakota reached her hand out to take one then shook her head. "My mom is an eco-freak," she laughed slightly. "She can detect tobacco and nicotine from a mile away, so you'd be best to take it outside if you want to light one up."

"Say no more, I'm gone," Constance smiled with a wave of her hand, stuffing the pack back into her bag.

"I almost forgot," she carefully pulled a small box with a delicate looking red ribbon tied around it out of her bag, leaving it on the counter. "I hope it settles you down after all of last night's... Commotion."

Dakota stared after her, and wasn't sure what to think of the woman. She also found something unsettling about the way she had said the last sentence, it was almost cryptic... God, this woman was weird. But when Dakota untied the ribbon, she found a red velvet cupcake, her favourite kind... "Huh."

She tied the ribbon neatly around the closed box again and stared at it for a moment. There was something she liked about the way that ribbon held the box together, protecting the contents inside... And it was beautiful, too. Then she realised why... Tate was her ribbon. He held her together, and she was already falling apart without him after just one day...

The next day at school, the new boy, Cameron, was laying it on thick with Dakota. She flirted back casually, but only to keep Sasha off her back about "turning him down." Sure, he was cute, but he was no Tate.

_Yeah, because he doesn't give you advice on trying to kill myself and stab people in front of you, Dakota. God, what a major turn off._

She smirked at her sarcasm, realising how a joke only shared with yourself could still be pretty damn funny. But it shouldn't be. It really wasn't.

In the cafeteria at lunch, Sophia stopped beside Dakota and Sasha. A few other popular girls sat with them, just to listen and collect their gossip, mostly. Or Sasha's gossip that Dakota pretended to care about and listen to.

"I couldn't help but overhear all about your little shopping trip from yesterday in history," she smirked at Dakota. "Was it to get some new clothes with daddy's money because your favourite outfit was a little... Stained?"

Dakota rolled her eyes and held out the cupcake she was about to eat to Sophia, shocking everyone. "Here, have a cupcake, Sophia, you talk more shit than usual when you're hungry."

Her remark earned her a few unwanted giggles from the other girls at the table, who Dakota shot a glare at. She wasn't trying to be mean to Sophia, she was trying to the opposite, and they sure as hell weren't helping.

To her surprise, Sophia accepted the cupcake. "If this is some kind of peace offering-"

"It's. Just. A. Fucking. Cupcake," Dakota sighed, exasperated. "That's all it is. You don't have to take it as something else. It's only a cupcake."

Sophia smiled at her warmly. "I was going to say thank you."

Dakota returned the smile. "You're welcome."

Things went downhill from there. Sophia tried to accuse Dakota of poisoning her because the cupcake had made her sick. Her parents continued arguing. Tate made no appearances... And that's when they started, the nightmares. The memories came in fragments, but they were so vivid; so real. It was always the same.

**He walked in, whistling this eery tune, though the room seemed enveloped in silence. She held her breathe, and each time another shot was fired and another body fell lifeless, another heart stopped beating; Cara squeezed Dakota's hand tighter. Until he pulled their table up...**

Dakota would jolt awake everytime, in a cold sweat, screaming. Her parents would run in, and she would make something up, she would be convincing about it. She just didn't want them to worry, because the medicine wasn't working anymore...

She went straight to the bathroom on Friday, she couldn't fight it anymore. She pulled out a blade, a new one, and she used the pain to block out the memories. They rarely left her head, always hanging over her like an ominous grey cloud until night, when they could really rain over her.

She saw him standing at the doorway, staring at her with that same numb look of darkness on his face that she'd witnessed the last time she'd saw him and whipped around. He was gone, but the door was left a crack open... She had locked it when she went inside.

That night, it all changed...

**It happened the way it always did. The footsteps, the whistling, the screaming, the gunshots... Then he lifted their table. She waited for him to disappear like he always did before she could see his face. But not this time... She saw a face she recognised. But it was tainted. It had dark lines of the human skeleton painted over it's beauty. That face... It was Tate's.**

**AN: Yay for a longer chapter that deleted like half of itself when I was almost done haha. Obviously I re-typed it because you guys deserve daily updates okay? Not much Tate interaction in this chapter, but there will be way way more next chapter, I promise! I know you're probably thinking that Tate didn't really look like that when he carried out the shooting and that it's way too early for her to remember what he did; but everything's gonna make sense in the next chapter. Her nightmares aren't necessarily all memories, and who knows? Maybe she'll figure that out. Please review and tysm for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7: Fragile

**AN:**

**Please read the little AN at the end of this chapter, guys :)**

**Cloudcity'sBookworm: I hate that she cut again too and I personally have never done it so I don't know what it's really like, but I hope I did a good job with it regardless. You probably won't see her doing that much anymore, the way the story is going right now. Yes and yes, you'll be seeing more of her Grandmother in the next few chapters after this one and I know roughly how she'll fit in now :) You'll also be seeing more of Cameron and I was thinking the exact same thing, he could be a pretty important part of this story for a few chapters at least, maybe more. Thank you so much for your continued support with my story, it means a lot!**

**ImagineDaydreams: Thank you for reviewing again and I'm so glad you're enjoying where my story is going!**

* * *

**"Tate?" Dakota said in a small voice. "Tate, why?"**

**He just stared right through her with this intense expression on his face, like she was making him... Angry? But he had to do it. And he ****_would _****do it. He re-loaded the gun, and she didn't try and stop him. It wouldn't do her any good, anyway. She realised that Cara had disappeared. Vanished.**

**She looked up at him and saw the shotgun pointing right at her heart. "No, Tate. I love you, please don't do this," she begged, tears running down her cheeks. And he didn't shed a single one...**

**"I thought you-you cared about me, Tate..." **

**"I'm not sorry." **

**He pulled the trigger.**

* * *

She finally jolted awake. It was still night. She was sure she was imagining it, but there was a sudden pain in her chest... Just where she'd been shot.

For some odd reason unknown to Dakota, she didn't wake up screaming this time, and she wondered why; since this had been the most terrifying nightmare of them all...

That's exactly what it had been. A nightmare. The rest felt more familiar, they were real memories. Or where they? Was any of it real?

She barely considered the last part being a memory, it was just so ridiculous. It was too horrific to he true, and it made sense that she had dreamed of him like that. The trauma of the home invasion was causing her to remember things that she usually didn't, that the pills usually blocked out; and that combined with Tate killing someone in front of her in the same night as the home invasion had caused this. That was it.

"It was just a nightmare," she took a deep breathe. "Not real. Just a nightmare."

She didn't get back to sleep that night, because if it was just a nightmare, then why did she have to convince herself that that was all it was?

* * *

Dakota spent her Saturday both wishing Tate would appear and dreading the very thing happening simultaneously. She also watched two seasons of The Walking Dead. It had been a productive day.

That night, she found herself fearing sleep. Sleeping was this special thing you could do when you wanted to be alive but you just didn't want to _exist _or more to the point- have to deal with existence and the horrors than come with it.

When Tate wasn't there, sleep became Dakota's sanctuary, but the nightmares were depriving her of that. She didn't know how much longer she could cope without either of them, and that was a sad prospect. But it was her life right now and for the foreseeable future.

She took one sleeping pill, but the thoughts kept her awake, so she took another. Thankfully, it worked before she felt the need to pop a third one.

She didn't have any nightmares that night.

* * *

Dakota woke at 9am with a spring in her step. Her mom and dad had gotten a decent sleep, too, since she hadn't woke them up screaming. Everybody seemed to be winning today.

After she had had coffee and a nutritious breakfast of pop-tarts, she showered and got dressed. She even put on makeup.

Today was going to be a good goddamn day. Screw Tate, screw Sophia, screw being shot, screw cutting, screw all the pain. She would make today a happy one, even if tonight would be hell.

Dakota took Hallie out for a walk like she usually did. Today, however, she crossed paths with none other than Cameron.

When he smiled at her that way people smile at you when they're just overjoyed to see your face, she felt herself smile back instantly.

"Busy morning?" She asked him when he sat down beside her on the wooden park bench.

He shook his head. "Nah, I just like being out here on a Sunday morning. It's nice feel the sun shining on your face and see countless harassed business-people with their cell-phones blowing up and their cheap coffee spilling all over their equally cheap suits and skirts; and know you're not one of them. Just breathe in the air, though I can't say it's fresh since it's pretty damn polluted. But still... It's good to be awake and alive today, ya know?"

Well, so much for the mindless flirting to no outcome. This boy was like a modern-day Shakespeare.

Dakota found herself staring at him in awe for more than a few seconds too long.

When Hallie barked from her lap at a doberman across the park, she blinked and snapped out of it.

"Uh, yeah. Today's a good day to be alive, Cameron," she smiled. "It's like you read my mind. That's how I felt as soon as I woke up, and I don't usually... It's a pretty great feeling. Now I can see why you're always smiling."

He looked intrigued by Dakota's statement. "You don't usually wake up happy, huh?"

She frowned and shrugged, knowing she'd screwed this up already. "Does anyone, really?"

Cameron looked down, then back up at her. "I wanna take you out tonight, Dakota."

She smirked and raised her eyebrows at his sudden, impulsive decision, and then at her own equally impulsive reply.

"Consider it a date."

* * *

Tate watched and waited for Dakota to get home from her bedroom window, though he still considered it partially his. It had been his before it was hers.

He had to find some way to talk to her today, to explain everything that he had done on the night of the home invasion. He knew he'd end up mixing fact and fiction, he'd already rehearsed fitting in his lies nicely with what had actually happened in his head several times.

His brows knitted into a furrowed line across his forehead when he saw that smile on her face. She'd met someone, he just knew it. He would find the goddamn boy and he would get rid of him, he couldn't lose her again...

And by find, he knew he had to wait until the boy set foot on the property first. But that shouldn't take long.

He glanced at her blackboard. "TAINT." She hadn't rubbed it off yet.

It had killed him inside to see her run out and look for him so frantically when her dad had told him that he couldn't see him in the house anymore, and when he had watched her cut herself again. He had stood there and let her do it. He even showed himself for a second, to scare her into stopping. It seemed to have worked.

If only she knew what he was, it would make it so much easier.

_If she had a clue about who I am and what I did to her she would hate me. She would be repulsed by what I am. I can't let her remember. I _won't _let her remember._

* * *

"So, where's this Cameron boy taking you tonight?" Her dad asked, and Dakota smirked. He was in full protective dad mode. It made her glad that he cared so much, though she knew most teenagers would despise their dad for it.

"He didn't say."

Her dad frowned. "Well, he better have a clue about it when he gets here, I want to know exactly where you're going, alright?"

She laughed slightly and nodded.

Dakota spent an hour and a half getting ready. She decided on that floral dress that Constance had complimented her on, but not for that reason. She just liked the dress. It was delicate and feminine and god, it made her feel pretty. She needed that feeling right now. She craved it.

When she looked in the mirror before walking downstairs as the doorbell went, she found countless flaws even though she'd tried to look perfect. She sighed, trying to forget how her reflection appeared to her and plastered on a smile.

Why was she bothering? He'd be just like all the rest, and despite his intellectual qualities and adorable smile he was just a distraction until Tate would show his stupid fucking face again.

But this wasn't Tate's fault. It was Dakota's, for telling him to get out and wishing he hadn't seconds later. She knew it was her fault, but she still so desperately felt the need to cling onto a reason to resent him right now.

She was already starting to fall apart again, and the worst part was that her parents thought she had began to put herself back together.

* * *

Her parent's had both offered her encouraging, approving smiles as she left with Cameron. God, they could be so shallow sometimes, but that was probably Dakota's worst personality trait, so she couldn't really judge them.

"So, you told my dad where we're going?"

"I did," he looked her up and down. "You look beautiful."

As they got into his spotless red convertible, she couldn't help but feel like his eyes had lingered in certain places; and her face wasn't one of them.

"Thank you, you're not half bad yourself."

As they drove, she gradually grew more and more relaxed. Chocolate by the 1975 was on the radio, the sun was in her face and the wind was in her hair. Everything was perfect.

Dakota didn't realise that everything was a little _too _perfect.

They ended up going to a new Italian restaurant, and though she couldn't understand what half of the menu even meant, she enjoyed herself.

"I think you're a great person for making a kind gesture to Sophia, after all she's done to you," he said after they ordered their main courses.

"Well, thanks. Somebody had to be the bigger person, even though she's trying to blame a cupcake that didn't go down will with her on me," she muttered in annoyance. "I didn't make or buy the thing, my neighbour gave it to me... Wait, how do you know what Sophia did to me? I thought you just moved here?"

"Sasha's the biggest gossiper in the school and also happens to be your best friend," he smirked playfully, but she frowned when he called Sasha her 'best friend'.

He noticed. "Are you okay? Did I offend you, because I think Sasha seems like a lovely person, she's just... Very chatty."

"No, no," she shook her head, not wanting to dampen the atmosphere with her shooting story. If he didn't already know about it and he wasn't going directly ask, then she wouldn't feel pitied. Good.

"So, why is Sophia so spiteful towards you, anyway?" Cameron asked curiously. "Did you used to be close or something?"

"I just- I don't really wanna talk about it right now, Cameron," she said it in a snappy tone, and instantly regretted it. "I'm sorry, I'm just... Super hungry. I get cranky when I'm hungry."

He chuckled and they made light conversation for the rest of the meal, nothing too heavy came up.

It was around 8pm when he dropped her off, back home.

"I wanted to take you to watch the sunset with me, but it would take too long to get there," he mused, gazing up at the sky before opening the passenger side car door for Dakota.

"Maybe some other time, it would have been lovely," she smiled, thanking him as she got up and out of the car.

He walked her to her door, standing close by her side, but not too close.

"Thanks for an amazing night, Cameron, I really had fun," she smiled, trying to ignore the awkwardness between them as he lingered at her front porch step. After a moments hesitation, he leaned in to kiss her, but she pulled away.

"I had a great night Cameron, I'll see you at school," she muttered firmly, opening the door and stepping inside quickly. She gently but hastily closed it in his face. He didn't look exactly hurt, just disappointed.

Maybe he really _was _another typical guy who wanted her body more than her. Maybe his whole sensitive, knowledgeable, deep act was exactly that- an act.

* * *

Dakota decided to take another two sleeping pills and opened her drawer on her bedside cabinet, frowning when the pills weren't there.

"Looking for these?" Tate leaned against her bedroom doorframe, shaking the container of pills in his hand, clearly taunting her.

She turned and glared at him. "I was looking for you, but I started to give up on the hopes that you'd come back here. So yeah, I need a couple pills to get to sleep. Now give me them back, please."

He shook his head. "I'm not giving you them back, Dakota, and I want you to stop hurting yourself, too."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You really were there?"

"What?"

"You were standing at my door when I cut myself again, and then-" she began, but he cut her off.

"I noticed you were wearing a long-sleeved cardigan," he cut her off. "But I bet _Cameron _wished you weren't."

"What the hell are you getting at here, Tate?" She shot him another glare.

"Well, I think we both know what I mean," He said it nonchalantly, but there was jealousy in his eyes and he couldn't hide it, not even in their darkness.

Dakota looked down, feeling the urge to cut herself. But she reminded herself how stupid and pointless that was. She was stronger than that. Either way, Tate was making her feel humiliated and he knew it.

"You know exactly what Cameron wants from you, but are you going to just let him pretend to be a nice guy and take it? And then leave you, because he never actually cared?"

Dakota snapped her focus back up to him. "I can't believe that you can't talk to me until I decide to take a couple sleeping pills to get a decent night's sleep, when I search my whole neighbourhood for you, but you probably didn't know that because you were too damn busy being jealous of some guy who I agreed to go to dinner with, and that you'd think _that _of me, I really can't-"

"And I can't believe that you could be so damn naive!" He yelled, and she jumped slightly. He noticed that and glanced at the floor, feeling guilty. He didn't want to make her upset, but as much as he hated Cameron, he didn't want her to have to deal with him killing the boy. So he had to be cruel to make her understand or at least accept what she already knew.

"If you just came back here to insult me and make feel even more disgusted with myself than I already do, you can show yourself the fucking door, Tate," she stepped towards him to snatch her pills back, but he held them up higher than she could reach.

"Really? I thought you would want to tell me yourself, to 'get out'," he said bitterly, staring down at her, but not quite glaring.

"You killed someone in front of me, and you stabbed her multiple times when one would have easily done the job, so I don't think you're being fair," Dakota folded her arms in irritation. "Where's the other two? What did you do to them, Tate?"

The way he had just walked in and started verbally attacking her made her forget about the fear she should have felt around him.

"I took care of them, and I had some help," he muttered dismissively.

"No, you didn't. You don't take _care _of anything, Tate! You leave things more broken than they were before you appear out of nowhere and disappear the same way."

"Maybe that's because I always seem to cut myself on your shattered pieces!" Tate shouted, and in his moment of built up rage being released, he threw the container of pills across the room and looked down.

Dakota stepped back from him and remembered how unpredictable he could be, yet she was still shocked by his violent reaction.

"You shot me," Dakota said after at least ten seconds of silence.

His gaze snapped up to her.

"In my nightmare, two nights ago. You shot me."

He blinked.

"I don't want you to be the demon haunting my dreams, Tate," her voice cracked and her eyes welled up with tears.

"Come here," he said, his voice heavy with sadness. Tears were beginning to roll slowly down his cheeks, now. "Come on," he opened his arms to her, and she didn't hesitate, running into his arms.

Tate held her tightly and she let herself drown in him, in his warmth. He moved his hand up and down her back and stroked her hair, pulling her closer with every sob.

"I'm sorry I told you that I never wanted to see you again, god, I didn't mean it..." Dakota murmured into his chest.

"I know, I know you didn't mean it," he whispered gently. "I'm sorry I scared you, but I couldn't let her hurt you. I never wanted you to see me do that..."

He let her sob into his chest like that for a good few minutes without a word, letting his own silent tears dry out. Then he lifted her carefully and lay her down under her duvet.

"I want you to always remember that I'm going to fix you everytime you break, Dakota, and I would never let anyone, or anything hurt you," he said softly, his voice shaking with emotion. "I love you."

"Can you stay with me, just until I fall asleep, Tate?" She looked up at him with tired eyes, sounding like a little kid. But he didn't care, he'd stay for as long as she'd let him, if he had it his way.

But she was alive and he wasn't, and the truth wouldn't stay buried for much longer; he just knew it. He wanted to cherish the time he had with her right now, before he unknowingly fucked it up, although he already had when he shot her and killed her best friend. Really, they had been finished before they had even started.

"You don't need the pills tonight, Kota, I'm right here. I'm always gonna be right here."

* * *

**AN: Okay, so I decided to give some insight on Tate's feelings in this chapter, and I hope you liked it! Please let me know if you prefer the story completely from Dakota's POV or you liked the Tate's POV parts and would like me to keep them up. I ended it on a bitter sweet note, I guess, instead of a cliffhanger for a change. Be prepared for more drama next chapter and please review! I love you all :)**

**ImagineDaydreams: Ugh I feel so bad disappointing you here because she doesn't actually know yet, but this is all leading up to a big confrontation and some major feels when she finds out aha. Please keep reading :)**


	8. Chapter 8: He's Tainting Your Soul

**AN: Okay, so I just noticed that in the first chapter at some point I must have deleted the part where Dakota jumps in front of the bullet that Tate had meant for Cara. I edited that there, oops.**

**So since the last few chapters were so intense and I can't see myself having Dakota find out for a good while yet because I have so many more ideas and we have a good build up going here, I decided to have this one be intense towards the end but not quite as dramatic. That's also because I need your opinions on something:**

**Do you guys feel like if next chapter Tate and Dakota did have some kind of heated argument again or something along those lines, there would be too much drama? Because I wanna make every chapter count and I feel like the really intense fights they seem to find themselves in are the most fun to write. I also think it's just realistic that they're going to argue, too. So yeah, review please bc it means the world to me and please PM any ideas, requests, comments or questions to me :)**

**The quote from the song 'Spanish Sahara' by Foals is going to be significant later in the story and the band own the song and lyrics, not me. You should definitely go listen to it bc it's amazing and relates to ahs a lot (Murder House and my FF).**

**I'm so thankful to all of my beautiful reviewers and readers ilysm!**

**Cloudcity'sBookworm: Thankyou so much for another lovely review! I love how you picked out two lines you really liked, that makes me so happy that they stood out to you :) I'm going to hold off on Dakota finding out about Tate for as long as I can without you guys getting bored. I'm going to continue including some of Tate's POV, too. I included a little more daddy daughter stuff in this chapter towards the end haha, I'm so glad you liked that part! There's more exciting stuff I have planned and this is by no means a 'filler' chapter but I have more dramatic ideas for the next few :)**

**Guest: Thankyou very much, that means a lot!**

**ZeldaZonkk: That review honestly made me so happy, I love how you have a favourite line from my story, and I really enjoyed writing that intense argument they had, there's more where it came from :) Would you like another one of those next chapter (obviously about a different subject etc)? I really wanna write one but I don't want to have too much going on if you guys get sick off all the drama haha. No I completely understand what you mean, I use that word to describe so many FFs and books too. When I first watched Murder House I was just like "wow this is intense" and I just kept thinking "ah it's getting more and more intense." So yeah, I love that word aha. Your comments about this chapter and my story in general were so sweet and inspiring, thankyou so much!**

**Okay so this has been long enough, sorry I'm rambling aha, enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

Dakota woke to her alarm ringing in that excessively loud, irritating way that it always did. But this morning was different... She felt arms wrapped around her. He had stayed with her like he said he would, and he had kept the nightmares away, too.

She wanted to lie there with him for an eternity, because he just made her so damn happy in a way that nobody else ever could. Despite all the shit that had happened between them since they had met, which wasn't that long ago; this moment was perfect. She knew there would be more disputes and more tears, because they both had a dark side that the other had to deal with; but right now, that didn't seem to matter.

Dakota sighed, knowing that she'd have to force herself up and go to school, where she'd have to cope with more crap from Sophia and either ignore or face the awkwardness between her and Cameron.

Cameron. God, today would be unbearable. She really didn't want to lead him on. He was a nice guy, but he was also a little too forward and he didn't understand her like Tate did.

"I have to go to school, I really don't want to, but-"

"Stay here," he murmured, pulling her closer when she tried to sit up. "You can miss one day, right?"

She considered it for a few seconds. "Not today, Tate, I really can't," she said it firmly and sat up, this time he didn't try and stop her.

"Why?" Tate asked, irritation in his tone. "You miss him already?"

"What?" Dakota asked in confusion, standing up to pick an outfit from her wardrobe. "Oh, you mean Cameron...? God, no," she laughed, failing to notice how jealous he sounded. Usually she picked up on these things, but she was focused on getting herself ready.

He propped himself up on his elbow. "So you're not going to be talking to him again?"

Dakota decided on blue jeans and a v neck, she didn't have time to think her outfit through as much as she usually did. In fact, she usually planned ahead, but last night's events hadn't allowed that.

"No," she said, turning back to him and shutting her wardrobe doors. "I have you, I don't need anybody else. You don't need to hate him, Tate. There's only you."

He looked relieved, but something was still bothering him. She didn't have time to decode it, though, she'd get to the bottom of it later.

"You mean it?" Tate asked, sitting up. It was as if he was waiting for her to laugh and say no, of course she didn't_ mean _it.

She smiled at him and nodded. "'Course I do. Come by after school?"

He nodded and left her to change, sighing. She had no idea that he would be waiting all day for her to come home with little else to do, but he had to keep it that way. The way Tate saw it, he was loving her on borrowed time, or she was loving him on borrowed time, because when she found out... She could never love him again.

* * *

"Cameron told me about your date," Sasha sighed.

"It wasn't a date-"

"Well he said you told him that it was."

Dakota rolled her eyes. "If you like him so damn much then why don't _you _date him?"

"Because he likes you, Dakota, and you're messing him around. It's not fair."

"Why? Because I didn't have sex with him after knowing him for like a day?" Dakota snapped. "Is that honestly what this is about?"

Sasha frowned. "No, it's just... Sometimes I wonder if you avoid happiness, Dakota. And you deserve it. He could make you happy."

"Bull_shit, _Sasha," Dakota was trying to control her rapidly building anger so she didn't make a scene in the cafeteria. "I want to be happy more than you'd ever know, I just don't want Cameron."

"Whatever," Sasha sighed, and they didn't say another word to eachother all day.

Thankfully she only had one class with Cameron, and Sasha wasn't in it. Geography.

She had been avoiding him all day, but it was the last period and she couldn't exactly ignore him if he tried to talk to her, though she wished she could.

She pretended not to notice when he say beside her and hid her face behind a curtain of golden blonde-brown hair. The girl who usually sat there would soon walk in and she'd hopefully have an issue with it so Dakota didn't have to discuss their 'date.' She'd called it that, and she was beginning to realise how many stupid things she said and did when Tate wasn't around; and even when he was. Maybe she was just a stupid girl, maybe that was it.

"You've been avoiding me," he said. "Why?"

She turned to him, deciding to soften the blow of her words by complimenting him first.

"I really had a lovely night with you, the food was great, the conversation was great, you're great. But I can't date you, Cameron. There's too much going on in my life right now, I'm sorry."

Cameron just nodded, he didn't seem hurt at all. "Sure, but can we at least be friends?"

Dakota offered him a small smile. "Of course we can."

The girl that usually sat there walked in at that point, and she didn't seem to care because, well, it was Cameron. Girls practically drooled over him.

"Hey, you can have your seat back," he stood up. "Sorry about that."

Dakota wasn't expecting that, but it didn't matter to her either way.

She just hoped he was as unaffected by her honesty as he seemed to be...

* * *

Tate watched his mother walk into Dakota's house and rolled his eyes. He really didn't want to deal with her today, or any day, for that matter.

Moira was so submissive with her, but she was a kind woman and Tate didn't particularly like seeing Constance belittle her the way that she did.

"What do you think you're doing here?" She asked as Constance strolled in. "Mrs. Myers is on an outing and-"

"I have to speak with my son," she replied dismissively, and Moira went back to her work with a frown upon her worn face.

"Tate?" She called from Dakota's room. "Tate, we have to talk, honey."

Tate sighed, the woman disgusted him, but he had nothing better to do and wanted to know what the hell she thought she was doing snooping around Dakota's room.

"Then talk," he appeared behind her, a scowl upon his face. "But I want you out of her room."

He felt the urge to laugh when she jumped slightly in surprise. But then she turned and the smile on her face was sickening. She could never appreciate him when he was alive, but now that he was dead, she looked at him like he was some kind of God. A holy being. And both of them knew that Tate was quite the opposite.

"You scared me," she lifted her hand to touch his face, but he flinched away from her touch like it was poisonous, because to him, and the rest of her children- it was. Constance was poison to everyone she met, really, but especially to her own offspring. That was her speciality- destroying people.

She sighed and walked over to Dakota's bed and bent down, reaching underneath it.

He was about to to demand that she leave, until she pulled out a scrapbook.

"How did you know it would be there?" He couldn't help himself from asking, he was just curious.

"People hide their own demons under their beds where they thought the monsters were as children," she turned to him, opening it up. "Dakota's are memories. Certain ones. The ones involving you, mostly."

He glared at her, snatching it from her hands. He looked down at the first page and guilt washed over his features. It wasn't by any means remorse, but it was definitely guilt.

There were several photographs of Dakota and Cara filling up the page. Two smiling kids together, and then they were teenagers smiling together in a different way. There was pain behind both of their flawless exteriors, especially Dakota's. Tate wouldn't say Cara was perfect by any means, in his eyes nobody was anything compared to Dakota, but she was polished and pretty.

"She's going to find out soon enough," Constance said, standing beside him to see the pictures, though she was being careful not to get too close. "And when she does, she'll never talk to you again. You're hurting yourself and the poor girl more and more everyday, you know."

Tate closed the book with a frown.

"She's very pretty, I'll give you that, and she's a lovely girl, though I can tell she's damaged," she glanced at the pills still lying on the floor from when he'd threw them down last night. "But she's no fool, either, and she'll soon see you for what you are."

Tate fought the urge to strangle the woman right then and there. She had made him this way, and she was acting all high and mighty about it like she was enlightening him on something he was completely oblivious to.

"You could have had her, you know," she went on. "Before you decided to shoot her-"

"I didn't _decide _to shoot her, I was going to let her live, but she jumped in front of the goddamn bullet for her friend and-"

"God, will you listen to yourself?!" Constance brought her hand to her forehead and rubbed it in frustration. "I was beginning to think that she was good for you, but she's bringing out that darkness in you more than I ever did."

"Don't talk about her like that," he growled. "Dakota is the only light I've ever known, and I won't let you-"

"I'm not going to tell her, Tate," Constance sighed. "I'll let you have your happiness, even if it's short lived and you're going to feel worse than you ever did when she leaves you."

"But she told me-"

"It doesn't matter what she told you, she'll leave you in the end. They always do."

With that, Constance left him standing alone like the naive, confused child he truly was, in his times of denial. He knew it was inevitable. Dakota would never want to look at him again when she knew. When she remembered. But he was under the illusion that if she fell hard for him enough, then maybe, just maybe, she'd forgive him. If she loved him enough, she had to. Didn't she?

The longer she loved him, the more he'd convince himself that she always would and always could.

It was ironic, really. She was telling him with such conviction that everybody leaves, and proceeded to leave him. Walk away like she hadn't just tore his dreams apart. But, again, that's what Constance's speciality was- destroying people. Until they were dead, and even then.

* * *

Dakota came home to an empty house. Or she thought it was, until Moira greeted her.

"I hope you had a productive day at school," she said warmly. "Your parents should soon be home, your mother is out grocery shopping and your father is out on a rather lengthy jog."

Dakota frowned. He enjoyed long jogs, but in the morning, not at this time. Could he really be cheating again?

"If you're having company over, I can show myself out," Moira added when Dakota didn't reply."

"I hope you had a lovely day, Moira," she smiled after a second. "And no, no, it's just Tate. You don't need to do that."

She couldn't help but notice how Moira's expression turned sour when she said his name.

"Dakota," she began, walking back into the kitchen, followed by Dakota. "May I speak candidly with you?"

She nodded.

"I don't think that boy is a positive thing for you," Moira said with conviction. "And I hope he's never been violent towards you, because all I ever seem to hear is him raising his voice to you and if he dared to raise his hand-"

"No, he would never hurt me, Moira," Dakota cut in, nothing how intense Moira's tone and expression was getting.

"...I hate to intrude but the walls here are just paper thin," she returned to her calm, soft demeanour. "I won't notify your father, it's not by business or duty to, but please be careful, child. You're too gentle and delicate for someone like him."

Towards the end of her last sentence, she seemed to get... Sensitive, again. Almost angry, but not quite.

Tate was listening to the whole conversation, and Moira was perfectly aware. He stood beside Dakota looking irritated, though Moira payed him no attention.

"Thank you for your concern, Moira," Dakota turned to answer the door, which Tate had just rung the doorbell to before Moira tried to give anything serious away. "But I'm happy with Tate."

She looked through the peep-hole and opened the door with a bright smile on her face. "Hey."

"Hey," he took a step inside and embraced her in a tight hug.

When he held her like that it was like all of her broken pieces were connecting back together, only for her to come undone whenever he left.

"You wanna sit upstairs?" She asked, turning to the steps leading to upstairs.

"I'd follow you anywhere, Dakota," he smiled.

She laughed, just out of happiness, and held her hand out to him. He was her sanctuary when the world was closing in on her.

He took her hand tightly and intertwined their fingers.

Moira watched with a frown, but busied herself with housework as she usually did.

He sat on the floor with his legs folded in a basket, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

She had put the song "Dakota" by the Stereophonics on her iPod, which was hooked up to speakers. It was fairly low, so they could easily hear the words but it wouldn't drown their own out.

"I can see why they named that song after you," he glanced down at her.

"You've heard it before?"

"Yeah. I've liked it since I first heard it, there was something special about it. I finally know what it was. You're beautiful, you're like a storm, Dakota. A beautiful, tragic storm."

"Tragic?" She asked, perplexed.

"You hurt yourself," he murmured. "I need you to promise me that you won't ever do it again. Someone like you doesn't deserve scars on your skin, nobody does, but you... You're too goddamn special for all of that blood, all of that pain. You're too special."

Dakota lifted her head from his shoulder for a second to look him in the eye. "I promise, as long as you're here, I won't ever do it again."

"I'll always be here," he put his arm around her shoulders and held her close, like there was a dangerous wind about to pull her out of his reach.

The next song that came on was "Spanish Sahara" by Foals. Tate had never heard it, but there was something about it... It sounded like him and Dakota.

**"I'm the fury in your head. I'm the fury in your bed. I'm the ghost at the back of your head."**

He knew it would only be so long until their perfect moment was ruined. Any moment with her was perfect, even the ones when they were screaming at eachother. Any time spent with her sent Tate into this third space, this light place. This _better _place.

They heard footsteps from downstairs approaching at a rapid pace, and Tate scrambled underneath her bed, though he knew he didn't have to, and if she wasn't looking, he wouldn't have bothered.

"Kota, it's your Grandma," Her dad opened her room door. His eyes were slightly puffy and there were red patches under his eyes where he had rubbed his tears away. "It's time to go and say goodbye to her, honey. I'm so sorry."

"But mom said I'd have time to visit and-" she began, standing up and raking a hand through her hair. Tears were forming in her eyes already.

"I know, I know, Kota, but our time ran out quicker than it should have..." He walked over to her and took her gently by the arm. "Your mom is very upset right now and we need to be strong for her, okay? Can you do that, honey?"

She blinked back tears and nodded.

They left the house quickly, and even forgot to turn her iPod off. Tate listened to Spanish Sahara on repeat, beginning to feel numb again now that she wasn't there to make him feel something. The song conjured up all kinds of complicated emotions within him, and it blocked out the dangerous thoughts that were lurking around in his head. He had to be good for her. He had to he kind, and patient, and thoughtful. He had to be enough for Dakota.

* * *

"So, did you see much of Cameron today?" Her dad asked after a few silent moments in the car.

"I don't want to date him, dad," she sighed, staring out of the window.

"Did he hurt you?" Her dad asked in that voice that just screamed 'protective dad'. She almost liked it when he got this way, it made her feel appreciated and important.

"No, I just think his deep, thoughtful rich kid act is confusing and I don't have the time for a boy like Cameron," Dakota replied, and her dad nodded.

"He probably wears fake Calvin Kleins', anyway," her dad chuckled. "You could do better that him, you know that, right?"

She found herself giggling like she used to as a little kid when he made a good joke like that. When she'd laugh until her stomach hurt. That didn't happen much anymore, so she cherished laughing when she could.

"I know," she nodded with a genuine smile.

She'd almost forgotten where they were going with the lightheartedness of their conversation during the fifteen minute car ride.

"Are you gonna keep seeing Tate?" She found herself asking as soon as the question appeared in her head.

Dakota's dad frowned. "I'm considering having him back at the house, as long as he keeps away from you. He's a thoughtful kid, and I think he's a good person at heart with a lot of love to give... But not to you. Tate is... A troubled boy, and he has a lot of pain that he isn't dealing with. He's not hopeless, we were getting somewhere. I just wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I didn't at least preserve with him a little longer until we get a breakthrough, you know?"

Dakota nodded, although she didn't know. She didn't know at all.

To her, Tate's words were both poison and medicine. But either way, she'd listen to them all day if she could.

* * *

When they reached the hospital doors, Dakota found her chest getting tight. The last time she'd been here, her parents had been told she wouldn't make it through the night, that she almost bled out on the table. Now, she was going to say her last words to her sick, suffering Grandma, who would be dead before the day was done.

Her dad took her cold hand in his warm one. "No matter what happens, you need to remember that Grandma loves you, and so does mom. Okay?"

Dakota nodded, taking a deep breathe.

The September air was crisp and the California sun bathed her in it's light and warmth, but inside; she just felt so cold.

* * *

Dakota walked into her Grandma's room to find her mom sobbing like she'd never sobbed before and her Grandma almost unrecognisable. Her fingers were clubbed and misshapen, she was so thin and her face looked gaunt and weary. It used to be bright and dewy. She used to be so full of life, but death touched everyone...

She ran up to her mom and hugged her tightly, sobbing into her shoulder.

"I don't want my beautiful girls to cry over me," her Grandma said in a thin voice. "You, too, Ben, come on over here."

Her dad had silent tears rolling down his cheeks. He had grown close to Grandma. Dakota's mom and her own mom were extremely close, they always had been; but she didn't know about Hayden. She did, however, know about the miscarriage and shooting.

Her mom didn't want her mother to die resenting Dakota's dad, so she had never told her. The shooting had been on the news globally, so there was no hiding that. She had even visited Dakota when she got out of surgery, despite her declining health. And the miscarriage was just something that daughters had to tell their mothers about... Or at least she assumed it was, maybe her mom just needed someone to lean on other than her husband who cried more than her, which meant he had been crying a hell of a lot.

Dakota eventually became numb to the subject. She figured she'd just be the strong one since nobody else seemed to be up for it. But sometimes, she pictured herself with a baby brother or sister, and she thought about holding their tiny hand and being proud of them. Watching them grow. Protecting them. Teaching them how to love themselves and never cut their beautiful skin open or take too many pills.

The family sat together and shared memories and laughs for half an hour, then her parents both waited outside so Dakota could have time with her Grandma.

"My beautiful Grandbaby, I'm so thankful I got to see what a beautiful young woman you've become," she squeezed Dakota's hand tightly, but gently. "Oh, Dakota. You made me so proud..."

"You made me so proud too, Grandma," she replied tearfully, trying to keep controlled and not break down.

"I remember when you were lying there with all these tubes connected to you, getting blood transfusions and IVs, and you just looked so pale and small... But you were still so beautiful. You were my little fighter, and I'm sorry I can't fight another day for you..."

"Grandma, no-"

Her heart monitor began to rapidly beep and just before Dakota's mom and dad burst in, followed by nurses that knew the poor woman could not be saved because nobody could cheat death apart from Dakota, apparently, he Grandma pulled her close and tightened her grip on her hand and wrist.

"The devil has your heart, and he is tainting your beautiful soul."


	9. Chapter 9: Crumble

**AN: Okay, so something big happens in this chapter. I love Takota (ship name creds go to Cloudcity'sBookworm, woo) fluff and cuteness but either the house itself or other people are always messing things up, because their relationship can never really be perfect and that's what you'll see in this chapter. **

**PM me if you have any ideas or requests you'd really like to see me write in, or any questions. Otherwise, please review :) I love all my readers so much and you guys are the best!**

**I'm just going to PM my reviewers for at least this chapter because last time the AN was really long and I don't want to bore you guys.**

* * *

Dakota's dad pulled her out of the room as the nurses and doctors tried to revive her Grandma. She knew it wouldn't work, their efforts were futile. She'd seen enough death and she wished she hadn't seen her Grandma take her last breathe.

But her words bounced around in Dakota's head. How could she know anything about Tate? And why would she say that, even if she did?

While her dad tried to comfort her mom, she stood outside the room. A woman she vaguely recognised from somewhere approached her.

"Dakota?"

"That's me... Do I know you?" Dakota replied politely, trying to keep composed.

"I was a trainee here when you had your surgery after the..." The young woman trailed off, acting like if she said the word it would make Dakota break down. She was sick of crying until her head hurt, even today, she didn't want to shed another tear.

"The shooting," Dakota finished for her, a little shortly, irritated. "Congratulations on becoming a full time nurse."

"Congratulations on pulling through. All wounds heal, right?" She left with a cheerful smile before Dakota could contradict her. She didn't even ask why she was in there. She obviously didn't care.

Wounds did _not _heal. They may look stitched up, the scars may even have faded... But just a word, or a memory... That's all it takes to tear them open again. No, wounds never truly heal. And the pain they caused never truly goes away, either. You just learn to cope with it or you let it eat away at your soul.

The car ride was silent all the way home, apart from her mom's sobbing.

Dakota went straight to her room, and found Tate sitting at her study on a chair.

She jumped, forgetting that she had left him in there. "What are you doing, Tate?"

Tate stood up and took her hands in his, ignoring her question. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She held his too, but he noticed how loose her grip was, while his was tight as ever.

"There's nothing to talk about..." She said after a few seconds, looking down at the ground. But there was. There was so much to talk about.

There was this darkness creeping up on her, on their relationship. That was the only way to describe it. She knew that there was something so... So violent and dangerous about Tate. And he was hiding something terrible from her. She just knew it.

"Hey, look at me," he said in concern, dropping one of her hands and tilting her chin up to face him. "What's hurting you?"

She looked up at him for a second, but before he could search her expression for an answer to his question she pulled away, dropping his hand completely.

"I just... I'm tired," she lied, lying down in her bed with her back to him before he could press her for a truthful answer. "And my Grandma just died, so... I don't want to talk about it."

Tate definitely wasn't convinced, and he didn't understand why she had become so distant in less than two hours. What could he have possibly done wrong this time?

"Do you want me to go?" He asked, dreading the answer.

"...No."

Tate climbed into her bed and wrapped his arms around her without hesitation. He wanted to believe that she was just upset about her Grandma, but something inside was telling him that he was the source of her sorrow. Of course he was. He was the source of everyone's sorrow, or so it seemed. Even his own.

Dakota didn't close her eyes for a while, and Tate could feel how tense she was lying against him.

Eventually she rolled over to face him. "It wasn't about the blood, was it?"

"What?"

"Taint. You wrote it on my board. It's still there."

He glanced up at the board, and then back to her. "Go to sleep, Dakota."

She stared at him for a moment, and he stared right back at her. She was the first to drop her gaze, as usual, and curled into him like nothing was wrong. She'd allow herself to pretend for one more night, but when she woke up... Things had to change.

* * *

Dakota woke up to her alarm blaring, as usual. Tate had left at some point, probably through her now open bedroom window.

It still hadn't sunk in that her Grandma was dead. It probably would never sink in. She didn't want to be upset about it, she just wanted to be... Free of all of the death and destruction that seemed to close in on her just as things got better in her life.

"You don't have to go to school today if you don't want to," her dad said, opening her room door. "But I have a feeling you will, because you're strong like that, aren't you?"

"I'm going to school, dad," she said, running a hand through her hair.

Her dad smiled weakly. "That's my girl."

"How's mom?"

"She's... Better. How are you?" Her dad asked carefully.

"Coping," Dakota replied, picking out some clothes. "Because she doesn't have to suffer anymore. I would never want that for Grandma. She was surrounded by people who loved her when she died. That's how everyone should go."

Tate looked down, though she couldn't actually see him. He didn't live or die surrounded by people who loved him, because nobody really had. He wondered what it would feel like to be loved. Sometimes he felt that with Dakota, but now that was in jeopardy, and he had to figure out why before he lost her.

* * *

Sasha was absent in school, she had texted Dakota earlier in the morning to let her know although they shouldn't really be on speaking terms, after their dispute over Cameron the day before. But Sasha would always follow Dakota, she'd always forget any fights they had. That was a positive and negative thing about Sasha, it was refreshing since she didn't seem to hold grudges like Dakota did; but at the same time, could be irritating. Any conflict that arose between them would build up and remain unsolved until Dakota directly brought it back up again, and it would end in an argument.

She had notified Sasha about her Grandma's death, avoiding going into a sob story so she didn't need to discuss her feelings with her over text.

Dakota was about to walk over to her usual table and sit with the girls that she usually did, though she never really conversed much with any of them. But Cameron called her over to sit with him and his friends walked off when he motioned for them to. She shrugged, it couldn't hurt, could it? Tate would never know. It wasn't like it was a date, she was just curious as to what he wanted to talk to her about.

"I hope you're doing okay," he said gently. "About your Grandma..."

"Sasha told you?" Dakota asked, annoyed. "I should have known, she can't keep anything to herself."

"Hey, I won't tell anyone," he murmured. "It's just important to me that you don't feel alone. I know Sasha isn't always the best of company. My friends aren't either. I lost my mom last year, I know how you're feeling."

Dakota's gaze softened. "Thank you for being the only decent person in this whole goddamn school. And I'm really sorry about your mom, I'm sure she's proud of you."

"Don't be," Cameron smiled slightly. "Losing my mom, as horrible as it sounds, gave me this whole new outlook on life. It's not that glass half full bullshit. It's... A glass 50% full of water and 50% not full of water. It's pretty simple. You see things and people for what they are. It's very refreshing."

"I wish I could see life that way..." She sighed, then frowned. "God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Its okay, Dakota, honestly," he chuckled. "I get it. You see these shades of grey in between the black and white and that is both a curse and a blessing."

Dakota couldn't help but smile. There he went again, with his perfect ways. Tate was by no means perfect, but... He was her person. And he would always be her person, regardless of any Camerons' that walked in and out of her life.

* * *

"Do you believe in ghosts?" Tate asked, lying by her side in her bed. This was after school that day.

She turned her head to look at him. "No."

"No?"

"No," she repeated firmly, with conviction. "I do not believe in ghosts."

"You should..." Tate trailed off.

"Do you?" Dakota asked, deciding not to question his strange statement.

She knew she'd have to deal with things soon. She wasn't going to he her mom and dad, letting a series of smaller events build up into something ridiculous. She'd confront him and he'd give her an answer to each question she asked and they'd all make sense. But nothing made sense about Tate, so why would he answer direct questions without getting either angry or dismissive? He wouldn't.

She couldn't find a viable reason for discussing everything today, she just felt emotionally drained. Surely it could wait...

"A ghost of a person is always there... I mean, it can't all be shit. Where else would you go? I don't believe in a heaven. I don't believe in a God."

"Neither do I, but there has to be someplace better... I've spent my time in hell on this Earth. I don't think it's a perfect place, but I think that when people who are truly good die, they somehow end up happy. Somehow, somewhere..." Dakota trailed off, deep in thought.

"Nobody is truly good, nobody's pure in this filthy, disgusting world. Apart from maybe you. Definitely you. God, you deserve a heaven built for you..."

"You'd be in it, Tate."

He turned onto his side and smiled at her, his eyes glimmering with a trace of light, for once.

"This is my place of happiness as long as you're here with me, Dakota. I don't need a heaven. I have you."

* * *

The next day, while Tate was visiting Beau in the attic, Constance headed into Dakota's room, confident that she wouldn't get caught by anyone.

She wanted to create some distance between Tate and Dakota, though she knew that it would only be temporary. She also knew that she could of course tell Dakota all about the shooting and who was responsible, but the truth was... She enjoyed seeing her son happy, and she had never seen anybody make him feel the way Dakota seemed to.

However, she was under the illusion that if Dakota left Tate even just for a few days like Constance had told him she would, then it would be a good opportunity for Constance and Tate to talk... Maybe, just maybe, he'd appreciate her being there and forgive her for her past actions. He would find unexpected solace in Constance, and then she would think of a way to bring them back together by the end of the week; and he'd love her like he did when he was a young child. He could be her gift again.

Constance retrieved Dakota's cherished scrapbook and leafed through it until she found a picture of Dakota with a boy. They must have been together at some point. She glanced up at the blackboard and noticed a word that only Tate would have written- "taint." She then pulled out a black permanent market pen from her bag and scribbled "TAINT" over that particular page, and left it lying open on Dakota's bed. She had timed it perfectly, Dakota would walk in any minute now.

Constance knew that Tate wouldn't admit to something he never did, which would make Dakota even more angry. Tate had serious trouble accepting and admitting to far worse things he had actually done in the past, and he would never accept the blame. This would make Dakota doubt him even more. And that was what she viewed as her cunning plan.

Constance walked downstairs and made a swift exact out of the backdoor when she heard the front door open.

Moira saw her at the last second, but wasn't aware of what she had done.

Constance had made one serious error, there was a flaw in her seemingly perfect plan. She had no idea how unforgiving Dakota could be...

* * *

Dakota walked into her room, deciding to try and carefully confront Tate about a few things he had told her that just didn't seem to add up. However, she froze with a look of pure horror upon her face when she saw her scrapbook lying open on her bed, vandalised.

"TAINT." It was written multiple times in different sizes and fonts.

Before she could react, Tate appeared at her doorway like he usually did.

"The backdoor was open, and I had to see your face again because-"

"What the fuck have you done?" She held up the scrapbook, showing him the page that Constance had scribbled all over.

The bright smile Tate was wearing when he walked in immediately fell.

"I didn't do that," he said indignantly.

"It says taint-"

"I _know _it says taint, but I would never do that. Not to you."

"Bullshit, you're lying!" Dakota yelled, throwing the book at him in rage. The corner clipped his shoulder, but her aim was off by far. He flinched.

"I never thought that you would lie to me! He was my friend, and he died in that shooting! How could you do that? How?!"

"I didn't do _anything, _how could I have?" Tate asked, stepping towards her slowly. He was desperately trying to stay calm, he didn't want to hurt her, and he was scared he would.

"I don't know, you always seem to find a way in, though, don't you?" She snapped. "You're _sick,_ Tate. You're more fucked up in the head than I thought."

His expression hardened, and she pushed him away from her when he took another step towards her.

"Dakota, please don't do that again, I'm begging you-"

"I can't even look at your face, get out!" She shoved him again. "You did something and you're hiding it from me, and I think it was something worse than this. You think you can just dismiss me every time I ask about things that make no fucking sense, well you're wrong! I want answers and I want them now, I-"

"Dakota, stop, please," Tate said quickly. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You already did a great job of that, Tate, what could you possibly do to me now that would be any worse, huh?" She pushed him again, harder, but he didn't stumble backwards a few steps like he had the first two times.

He clutched her right wrist and left arm and forced her roughly against the wall. "You want me to show you?"

Somehow, he found one of his hands around her throat. Her chest tightened up and she felt like pinching herself. This couldn't be _real._ She would wake up any second now and find him lying beside her. She had to. He told her he would never let anyone or anything hurt her... That included himself, right?

_"You think I'd hurt you, Dakota?" _His words from the night of the home invasion echoed in her head. And then she realised something that made her shudder... He was wearing the same look upon his face that he had worn when he killed that woman.

Chad and Patrick stood at the bedroom door.

"We have to do something, Chad," Patrick said with a frown.

"No, let him kill her, then he might finally see what a monster he is, and so will she," Chad replied. "Don't be stupid about this, Pat, we're not cops. We have no obligation to lift a finger here."

"Well, I can't watch this, I don't understand how you can stand there and _hope _that this girl dies. Honestly, Chad... I don't know who you are these days... Tate isn't the only monster in this house anymore," with that, Patrick walked away. He would never stop Tate, not if Chad didn't want him to. He was disgusted with himself, knowing what was happening to her in there and walking away.

"Jesus H Christ, what is he doing?" Constance whispered to Chad, more than a little alarmed. She had decided to come and see how her little plan had worked out, and this wasn't exactly what she had been hoping for. But then, she had forgotten about how violent Tate could become when his darkness completely took over. She still believed the house drove him to it every time. He couldn't be to blame for his actions, or at least not in Constance's eyes.

"What does it look like he's doing?" Chad rolled his eyes. He had a strong hatred for Constance, almost as strong as his hatred for Tate. "He's doing what he seems to do best- killing people who have done nothing to deserve death, of course. Following in your footsteps, remember Moira? Except it's his girlfriend. I never thought I'd say it since the way he killed my boyfriend and I was so... Memorable. But god, hasn't he just outdone himself with this one?"

Constance felt the urge to slap Chad, well aware of the sarcasm filling his tone. But she didn't want to be noticed by Dakota or Tate right now.

Dakota didn't answer Tate's question, waiting for him to snap out of it and let her go. But it was clear she was terrified and she knew that he wasn't kidding. Her whole body was trembling violently. "Tate, stop-"

"Do you?!" He shouted, and his loose grip on her throat suddenly tightened. Acting on impulse, she punched him on the nose with her free hand, hoping it would wake him up from whatever state he was in. She watched the blood drip from his nose in shock. Had she just made him bleed?

The punch, blood or no blood, didn't cause him to snap out of it at all; it only made him tighten his grip again, and she found herself struggling to breathe. "Give me a goddamn answer!"

"No!" Dakota croaked weakly, closing her eyes tightly, but he wouldn't relent. "I-I don't want you to show me... Please stop, Tate..." She whispered weakly.

It felt like he was draining the life out of her, because really, he was. It felt like she was drowning, at his hand, and it was worse than any nightmare she'd ever had, it was worse than the shooting. Because this was Tate. This was caring, thoughtful, loving Tate. But then again, it wasn't. She searched his eyes for even a trace of the person she knew, but found nothing but an empty, deep darkness.

After a few seconds, he dropped his hand from her throat but didn't let her move.

Dakota burst into coughs, wheezing. That darkness that she had thought was creeping up on her had been creeping up on him the whole time. This boy... He wasn't the one she loved. He wasn't the one that loved her.

Suddenly, he blinked and looked down in horror at her and realised what he had just done. What had come over him? How could he ever hurt her? The thought made him sick, him causing her any kind of pain.

Tate dropped his hold on her arms and stumbled backward. "Dakota, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it. I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

"You told me that you'd never let anyone or anything hurt me," she said tearfully, her voice shaking. "I guess you lied to me again."

"No, I didn't want to hurt you, Dakota, I could never hurt you!" He shook his head over and over and carelessly wiped away his own tears.

"You did!" She cried. "You just did! You're lying again!"

"No! Why would I ever do that to you?!" He stepped towards her and raised his hand to touch the bruise that was already starting to form on her throat, the one his own hand had caused.

At first, she thought he might try and finish what he had started, so she recoiled away from his touch and backed away from the wall and into a corner, instead; as if it would make a difference if he really wanted to hurt her. But he didn't, he was even more horrified by what he'd just done than she was.

"Get away from me, get out! Get out, Tate! I mean it this time! Go!"

Chad smirked, and Constance turned to walk away, somehow remaining unseen by Dakota. She walked right into Moira.

"You make me sick, you and that son of yours. He doesn't seem to be aware of what he just did to her, but you comprehend it perfectly. I suspect you orchestrated the whole thing."

Constance shot her what could only be described as a dirty look and left, brushing past her roughly. Her plan had technically worked, but it had worked a little too well. She didn't want it to come down to this, she should have thought about how umpredictable both of them could be, since Dakota was going through a grief process and Tate was... Tate was a psychopath and a killer, if she was being honest with herself. But Constance was rarely honest with herself about her son. She just wanted him to be perfect, because she believed that he could be. But even if he could have been her perfect son, he went out of his way to ensure that he never was.

"Please don't make me go," Tate whimpered. "I love you, and I crumble when you cry. I don't want to make you cry anymore. Let me fix this, let me fix us-"

She glared at him. "There is no _us, _anymore. You just strangled me, Tate!"

"No! Why would I hurt you like that? Why would I do that to you...?" He looked down, shocked and disgusted with himself.

"Go away, Tate!"

His expression changed, in some indescribable way when she said those words.

"Go," she paused, breathing out a sob. "Away."

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, and when she opened them... He was gone.


	10. Chapter 10: Poison and Wine

**AN**: **Okay, I need you guys to let me know if the rubber suit is something you want included in this somehow? I don't really mind either way, he wouldn't really be doing anything crazy because I think the shooting is really enough drama but yeah, let me know and I'll try and write it in if you want me to.**

**I based this chapter partially on a song that I've always loved and one that I feel describes their relationship very well.**

**Sorry for any spelling mistakes, there shouldn't be any unless autocorrect has messed stuff up bc I usually type this story and all of the others up on my phone. **

* * *

**"Your hands can heal, your hands can bruise. I don't have a choice but I'd still choose you."**

_Poison and Wine by The Civil Wars_

* * *

Dakota finally let herself break, sinking down to the floor in tears. Her window wasn't open, so how the hell had he gotten out so quickly? It didn't really matter, though, not anymore. How could she be with him, after that? Even if she forgave him, she would never be able to feel safe around Tate again. Would she?

She rubbed her still burning throat and winced. If anyone else had done that to her, it would still have been horrible... But Tate? Tate was the one who was meant to protect her from others. And although he had always been extremely volatile, she never thought he would hurt her like that, or at all.

His words echoed in her head over and over, and she buried her face in her knees like it could drown him out. _"I want you to remember that I will fix you every time you break, Dakota, and I would never let anyone or anything hurt you. I love you." _

And then she heard him. She heard him actually _say _it. "I love you."

Dakota felt his arm around her shoulder for a second, too, and she tried to scoot away from him, only to find that when she looked up he wasn't there.

She shuddered and wondered if he had been making her go crazy or if she always had been.

* * *

Chad lingered at the door with a frown. He was beginning to see how insensitive he had become, how numb. How numb to anything that didn't directly involve Patrick. He sighed, wishing he had helped Pat attempt to stop Tate before the damage was done. But it was too late for that, now. He stared at Tate who still hadn't noticed him, too distracted by Dakota. He left to go and convince Pat that he could still love, that his words were wrong. He'd tell him he was sorry like he always did, but it wouldn't matter. Patrick simply did not love him anymore, if he ever really had.

* * *

Moira wasn't meant to even be in the house, so no matter how much she wanted to try and comfort Dakota, she knew it would only lead to more confusion for the girl. "Didn't she tell you to go away?" She asked, a stern expression on her worn face.

Tate shot her an irritated look and turned his attention back to Dakota. "Stay out of it, you don't know about us, you don't know what it's like to love someone like I love Dakota."

"You're destroying her. You know you're too far gone, yet you drag this girl down with you. If you loved her so much, you would never have done that. I'm afraid you've gone absolutely insane, Tate; if that's what your idea of love is."

He ignored her.

"I know who did it."

Tate snapped his gaze back to Moira.

"Your mother."

* * *

Dakota's mom and dad were out handling funeral arrangements, and they wouldn't be back for at least another hour, maybe longer.

Eventually, she went downstairs to the kitchen to get a drink.

She poured orange juice into a glass, but then she heard footsteps coming from her backyard. She instantly grabbed a knife, but when she turned around clutching it, she saw non other than Constance.

"That's a big knife for a little girl."

Dakota sighed in relief and set it down on the counter. "My mom isn't in, I'll make sure I let her know you stopped by."

"Oh, I wasn't looking for your mom," Constance smiled, but it wasn't warm and it wasn't entirely friendly.

Dakota cleared her throat nervously. "You wanted to see me?"

Constance nodded and took a step towards her, then another until she stood inches away from her.

Dakota felt the urge to run, but her back was against the worktop and there was really nowhere to go. Besides, Constance could surely mean her no harm. But there was something so off putting and intimidating about this woman...

Constance noticed her try and flinch away when she brought her hand to the now dark bruise on her throat. "My, who did that to you?"

Dakota felt herself squirm under Constance's scrutinising stare and touch. "I... I don't think it's really any of your business," she muttered shakily.

Tate was watching the whole thing, fighting the urge to seriously hurt Constance. He hated how she was making Dakota not just uncomfortable, but frightened; though he had done worse to her in the past hour.

"Oh," Constance chuckled, dropping her hand. She turned to meander around the kitchen. "But I wonder... Is it your father's? What about your mother? Under all that stress in this time of great sorrow. It would be irresponsible of me to keep the fact that your _boyfriend _is abusing you to myself, surely."

Something inside of Dakota snapped, and she wanted to react by yelling and cursing at Constance, but then she realised that she could beat her at her own game.

"Firstly, Tate isn't _abusing _me, and secondly, he is no longer my boyfriend. I can handle myself just fine. I appreciate your... Concern, but I won't be blackmailed. I don't care if my parents find out, because I could always deny that Tate did it and tell them that it was... I don't know, _you?"_

Tate flinched when she stated what he already knew. He wasn't her boyfriend anymore.

Constance just laughed. "Honey, you're a mess. They'd never believe shit like that, and we both know it. Though I do like something about you. In fact, I'd say I admire you."

She had never planned to actually tell her parents anything, since it was her own son, though Dakota had no clue about that. She also didn't plan on giving away much on the shooting. She was just hinting that she would because she knew that Tate was present. She couldn't see him, of course, but Constance could tell that he would follow Dakota around until she wanted him again. If she ever did.

"I'm flattered," Dakota muttered, dry sarcasm filling her tone. Constance was beginning to seem less threatening, somehow.

"You're a manipulative little bitch, a lot like me when I was younger," Constance went on, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. She offered Dakota one, who took it without hesitation. "You said you didn't smoke anymore."

"Things are getting bad again," Dakota said dejectedly, leaning forward with the cigarette in her mouth while Constance lit it. "Everything good in my life is going to shit."

Constance smiled. "Welcome to my world."

Tate didn't like this at all. He didn't like anything about it. Dakota identifying with Constance, smoking her cigarettes. It made him sick.

"So, you wanted to see me about something?" Dakota asked, taking a drag. She resisted the urge to cough, since she hadn't smoked in months, nor did she really want to; but it put her at ease somehow.

"...It can wait," Constance sighed. "There's only so much pain someone can take in their life, you've already had your fair share, I suppose. Much like me."

"It was something bad, wasn't it?" Dakota asked, dreading her answer.

"Yes."

"I want to know before it creeps up on me."

"What if I told you that you already knew?" Constance asked, taking a long drag.

Dakota just stared at her.

"You don't want to remember this one, not today," the older woman turned to leave. "Trust me."

* * *

When her parents returned home, just over an hour later. They didn't question why Dakota was wearing a scarf, assuming that scarves had recently come back in style, since she always knew what was in before they did.

Her mom had perked up since her yoga, and it made Dakota so proud of her to see her trying to smile again after her Grandma dying.

Her Grandma... Dakota hasn't even begun to process what had happened, she had to grieve somehow. But honestly, she just wanted to break away from all the sorrow and death in her life. It just seemed to follow her everywhere, like an ominous dark cloud hanging over her head. It had gotten to the point where it never seemed to stop pouring down on her.

Dinner was uneventful, just smalltalk over Chinese takeout after they informed Dakota that the funeral would take place next Monday.

She went upstairs and felt her chest tighten when she saw what was written on her board. "I'm sorry."

Dakota felt tears welling up in her eyes. First of all, he had been in her bedroom at some point in the last hour and a half, while she was in the house. Secondly, he thought a message on a blackboard would fix what he had done to her. She loved him. But she couldn't just forgive him, she knew she couldn't do it.

She took a deep breathe and grabbed the cloth that she used to clean off her blackboard. Dakota started at "TAINT", which had already faded for the most part, and then at "I'm sorry." With tears clouding her vision, she violently scrubbed them off of the blackboard, like she could be rid of him and all the hurt he had caused her, and all the love she felt for Tate. But she couldn't get rid of him. It felt like he had become part of her in the month they'd known each other.

Being with Tate felt like drinking this rare poison that tasted so sweet, but burned away a part of her every time she had it. It was addictive, though, and she couldn't live without it. She had never been into drugs. Not until he walked into her life, and the withdrawal process wasn't going so damn well.

* * *

That night, Dakota had a strange nightmare. They were all _strange, _but this one was just... Different.

She opened her eyes and saw a SWAT team burst into the room.

She also saw Tate laying beside her on her bed. She turned to the SWAT team and then back to him, but he was standing up. He began to slowly raise his hands, with this look on his face like he had seen this coming. He knew it was going to happen, and he didn't intend on making it out alive. But why? Why were they in her house with their guns and bulletproof vests?

She stared up at Tate with tears streaming down her face. "No! Tate, don't leave me, please don't leave me!" She scrambled out of her bed and stood at his side, tugging on his arm, but he wouldn't look at her. "Tate!"

And then he glanced at a dark, crimson stain soaking through her shirt.

"What happened to me?" She choked out through uncontrollable sobs.

He looked down at her with an empty look in his eyes taking her hand tightly in his. His expression was numb, but not exactly vacant. He was thinking about too much and nothing at all.

They were both aware of the red lights dancing on their chests.

"Tate, I'm scared..." She said in a small voice, trembling.

"I'm here," he smiled ruefully down at her for a second. "It won't hurt, I promise. Don't be scared."

She swallowed, his words sending shivers down her spine.

Tate raised his other hand slowly, and held his index finger beside, but not quite against his head. And then he brought his thumb down and pulled the trigger.

_"Pow."_

Dakota looked up at him in horror. Suddenly, he turned and reached under her pillow for a gun, pulling her with him. She fell into him as the bullets crashed into his chest, the impact making his body shake violently. She screamed loud, but she could barely hear it over the gunshots. They just wouldn't stop.

As he fell, she let herself fall with him. Dakota didn't let go of his hand when the life left it, crying and screaming hysterically.

"Don't go," she begged, sobbing against his bleeding chest. "Don't you leave me here, Tate, don't you leave me!"

"I'm... Sorry," he took his last breathe, and she felt a part of her die inside along with Tate when she felt his heart stop beating.

The SWAT team had vanished into the air when she brought herself to look up at them. But something had been written on her board.

**'Don't be sad, we can finally be together for always."**

And then she looked down at the several holes in her own chest. She didn't feel it. Dakota had been oblivious to herself dying with him. The thing was, she didn't feel sad anymore. She didn't feel _anything._

Dakota jerked awake, insanely looking down at chest. No blood. But when she looked at her board, even in the darkness and saw it:

**"Don't be scared."**

* * *

Dakota found herself constantly thinking about Tate. It didn't come in waves, it was constant. He was always there, filling her mind.

Since that nightmare, she had found herself terrified of losing him. He was just too special to her. But a relationship based on lies could never work, especially after him _strangling _her.

Every time she found herself aching at the thought of sending him away the way she had, of being without him, she remembered that numb yet intense look on his face when he was slowly but surely killing her. She tried to block out how horrified he had looked when he seemed to snap out of whatever was going on inside his head. But maybe that was all an act, she couldn't decide.

If Tate died in front of her right now as he had in her dream, would she hold his hand and take her own last breathe as he took his? Yes. Did she feel alone without him no matter how many people were around her? God, yes.

But no matter what, she couldn't be with him. He had fucked it up, not her. She had to remind herself of that over and over. Tate had vandalised a picture of her dead friend. How could she possibly be with someone like him, no matter how much she wanted to?

All the burning questions bounced around her head, and it didn't matter who was talking to her, she just couldn't concentrate on a word they said. It had been a couple days since she'd last seen his face. She had concealed the bruises that just didn't seem to go away with makeup, of course. Nobody could know.

* * *

Constance returned to the house two days after her plan had been initiated. "Tate?"

Tate felt the urge to break his mother in half, if you could consider her to be one. But of course, he suppressed that urge; because Addie needed her and the only thing worse than having to cope with her little visits when she was on a guilt-trip would be to be stuck with the woman forever.

"Why?" He appeared inches from her, behind her.

She gasped and turned to face him. "Tate, you have to stop doing that-"

"Why would you fuck this one up for me?" He asked, louder this time.

"I do recall that I was not the one depriving that girl of oxygen with my hands around her throat," Constance replied dryly.

"If you don't stop destroying my life then you'll find your_self _being deprived of oxygen," Tate growled, irritated.

Constance slapped him across the face, and he didn't retaliate. He just glared at her with a tiny look of fear in his dark eyes, but it only lasted for a fraction of a second to be soon replaced by anger.

"I never meant to hurt her..." He trailed off, beginning to sound vulnerable, like a child who had taken a verbal dispute into something physical with a kid he liked at preschool. "Did I?"

Constance sighed. "I don't believe you did, Tate, but I also don't believe that you wouldn't take it a step further if that darkness took over again."

"But I don't want to be like this," he murmured tearfully. "I don't want her to be scared of me, I want her to feel safe with me. She should be able to feel that way. I just want to protect her from all of it, from the blood and the violence and the darkness..."

Constance felt tears gathering in her own eyes. "Tate... You don't seem to comprehend that you _are _this darkness, this violence. You're the very thing you want to protect her from."

"No!"

"_Yes!" _Constance exclaimed. "How could you be so blind, Tate? I didn't raise you to be blind."

"You didn't raise me at all," Tate snapped, carelessly wiping his tears away. "She can still forgive me. She can still love me, and I'll never hurt her again."

"Oh, Tate, you poor soul," Constance sighed. "Although, she did hit you first, several times, I suppose. I have to say I'm finding myself beginning to like this girl, she's a lot like me-"

"Dakota is _nothing _like you," Tate spat, disgusted. "I heard your little conversation. Don't offer her cigarettes again, and don't blackmail her, either. You have to fix this for me, or I swear, you're going to wish you never said a word to her."

With that, he disappeared.

* * *

Dakota didn't have any more nightmares, that week. But as she closed her eyes every night, all she could see was Tate's hand imitating a gun, and him pulling the trigger at his head.

She had kept her windows locked and checked her bathroom, wardrobe and under her bed for any sign of him. Nothing. Had he given up on her now?

She realised that as she checked, she was actually wishing she'd find him there. She wanted to know that he was okay, because since her nightmare; she had been terrified that something had happened to Tate.

* * *

"So, I'm coming over to your house after school today?" Sasha asked excitedly.

Dakota nodded. "Yeah. It's pretty creepy sometimes, so you've been warned."

"I like creepy," Sasha smiled, but she had know idea what she was saying.

Cameron approached her that day as she was waiting for Sasha, standing beside her locker. "Dakota, are you okay?"

She faked a smile. "Yeah, 'course I am. Why?"

Cameron frowned. "That doesn't work on me."

"Cameron, I'm fine," she said dismissively, avoiding eye contact. "Really."

"Just... You seem different. Is it your Grandma? Is it-"

"It's nothing, Cameron," Dakota said quickly. "Why do you care, anyway?"

"Because I think you're beautiful," he replied.

"I'm flattered, but all that glitters isn't always gold," she sighed.

"No, not just you. You're beautiful in the way that you are, you know? Your quirks and mannerisms, your smile, even when it's fake. You are beautiful."

Dakota laughed nervously and found herself beginning to blush. "My quirks?"

"Yeah," he smirked. "Like when you-"

Before he could continue, Sasha appeared. "Hey, Dakota, I think- Sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"No," Dakota smiled flirtatiously at Cameron. "No, you're not."

"Okay... So, are we going now?" Sasha asked, smirking.

"Goodbye, Cameron," Dakota said, turning to walk away.

"Goodbye, Dakota."

* * *

Tate stood in Dakota's doorway, he just couldn't help listening to their conversations about Cameron and besides, he had nothing better to do.

"What'd he tell you?"

Dakota shrugged. "Just that he thought I was beautiful, I don't know."

Tate rolled his eyes, but also felt a pang of jealousy. If a guy changed the word "hot" to "beautiful" it seemed to make the girl practically fall in love with him. Was that what she was doing? Was she falling in love with him?

* * *

The next day, Dakota walked past her dad's office to hear a voice that was all too familiar.

"Have you ever hurt someone you love?"

"...Yes, but this isn't about me, Tate. Have you?" Her dad answered in his smooth, serious therapist voice.

"Yeah, and I don't think she's going to forgive me. But I can't be without her, you know?"

Her dad didn't reply, waiting for Tate to continue.

"This world is a filthy place. It's a filthy goddamn horror show. And all I want to do is protect her from it," he went on, speaking with conviction. "I just wish she'd let me hold her again."

"You aren't referring to my daughter, are you?" Her dad asked carefully.

Dakota noticed that the door was open a crack and peered inside.

Tate's gaze moved from her dad to her instantly. "Am I?"

She felt her heart beating so fast that she wondered if he could hear it.

"This session is over, Tate," her dad said firmly, completely oblivious. He was probably jotting something down.

"Bullshit," Tate glanced back at Dakota's dad. "I don't accept that."

"And I don't accept that you're discussing your feelings about my daughter with me right now, in my house, in the house that she lives in, Tate," Her dad stood up, and Dakota knew there was no way she could get away without being seen or heard. "Please leave."

She froze when Tate rose, a scowl upon his face. He swung the door open and she had to jump backwards to avoid being hit by it.

They locked eyes for a moment, and he opened his mouth to say something; but she turned and ran upstairs as fast as her feet would carry her- she didn't look back.

* * *

"So, there's a dance this weekend, uh... It's tomorrow, actually," Cameron cleared his throat nervously, approaching Dakota on Thursday at school. "And I wondered if you wanted to go with me?"

She couldn't help but smile at how cute it was that he was feeling nervous about asking her to a dance. "I'd love to."

"Great, I'll pick you up at 8?"

She nodded and then it occurred to her that she truly was trying to leave Tate behind her, to move on. But he was always in her head, and nothing would change that. Not Cameron, not a dance. But there was always the possibility that someone would smuggle alcohol in, and she could get drunk on poison instead of Tate Langdon.

* * *

Dakota decided on a long deep red dress with a heart-shaped neckline and waterfall skirt that hugged any curves she had. Really, she prided herself on her figure which she managed to maintain pretty well without much effort, somehow. Her makeup was natural but flawless, and she'd worked hard on it. Her hair fell in soft waves. The sling back nude heels completed the look nicely.

Tate couldn't bring himself to look away as she walked down the stairs. She looked like an old Hollywood starlet. God, she was beautiful. And someone else would be holding her forever cold hands tonight. Cameron, to be precise.

Dakota hugged her mom when she saw tears of joy forming in her eyes.

"Look at my special girl tonight," her dad smiled lovingly, and she hugged him too.

"God, Ben, don't ruin her hair," her mom laughed. "I worked pretty damn hard on it."

"Thanks, mom, I love it."

Honestly, it felt amazing for Dakota to see her parents so happy, so proud. She wished she could make them feel like this everyday. She knew they loved her, but when it was special like this it made her feel like everything was worth it. All the pain, the therapy, the move... All of it.

They took pictures of her from pretty much any and all angles, which took at least ten minutes, but she didn't mind. A warm feeling surged through her veins, she could feel the love radiating around the room. But she also felt something else... Someone's emotions were dampening the atmosphere, and it certainly wasn't her own.

Dakota tried to ignoring the unsettling feeling conjuring up inside of her. She would enjoy tonight, she really would. Nothing was going to stop her, and if anything did, it would definitely not be a little hunch like this. She shook it off, but it seemed to cling to her like a horrible odour. It just wouldn't go.

* * *

When Cameron showed up at 8 on the dot, which Tate noticed and felt the urge to laugh at, though he realised that any boy would be mad to turn up late to a date with Dakota. Or a dance. Whatever it was, she was going with him.

His heart sunk when he watched Cameron's arm drape across her shoulder. This wasn't how it was meant to be. He didn't love her the way Tate did, unconditionally, irrevocably. He didn't love her at all, he loved the _idea _of her. Dakota was somehow blind to this fact, or she didn't care.

"Take good care of her tonight, alright?" Dakota's dad asked.

"Of course, Mr. Myers."

"Yeah, I _bet _he will," Chad snorted and appeared by Tate's side.

"Shut up," Tate muttered, his eyes still glued to Dakota as she left.

"How's it feel, watching her walk away with him?"

"I would follow Dakota anywhere, if I could. She has to know that..." Tate looked down, talking mostly to himself and not to Chad.

"Well, if she ever forgives you, I'll give you a tip: try not to choke her again, it can help maintain an already precarious relationship," Chad smirked, disappearing. Tate was left standing alone, as always.

* * *

Dakota walked into the dance with Cameron, and watched everyone stare in awe at her. She couldn't help but enjoy it, because for the first time since she'd gotten home, they didn't seem to despise her for showing her face again.

There wasn't much point in conversing with him, so the danced and drunk the alcohol infused "fruit punch" for at least an hour straight. Eventually, she felt too tipsy to stay out, and since Sasha wasn't around to get her going, the party kinda sucked. She asked him to drive her home at ten and he agreed.

Most of their conversations were pretty intellectual and brief, in school, so the light chatter they made in the car filled the air with awkwardness. Thankfully, it only took just under ten minutes to drive to her house from the school, and he opened the car door and gently pulled her out.

It had begun to rain pretty heavily during the ride home, so Dakota was eager to get back inside.

Tate stood just feet before them, waiting for the inevitable to happen. He had no idea why he was lingering, knowing her kissing Cameron would destroy him; but he had a strange feeling that something bad was going to happen and he had to stay with her.

Just before they stepped onto the property, Cameron grabbed her jaw and kissed her. It wasn't passionate at all, it was desperate and rushed; and begun to get a little too forceful. She found herself kissing him back weakly at first, almost cautiously and definitely reluctantly, but after a few seconds; his left hand on her hip got a little too low and his right hand tugged at her dress strap.

"Cameron..." She began, breaking off the kiss and trying to pull away, but he didn't stop. "Cameron, I don't want this!"

It was like he couldn't even hear her.

Tate felt his blood boiling, and he knew that if he could, he would snap Cameron's neck right then and there. But they weren't on the property, so he couldn't protect her, and it was killing him.

"Cameron, stop!" She slapped him hard across the face as her halter-neck satin ribbon holding her dress up was torn. She quickly pulled her dress up. "You're drunk, you asshole!"

"God, I'm sorry-" he began, realisation flooding into his features.

"Save it, you're just like the rest!" She yelled, turning and running up the path into her house. Cameron didn't pursue her, but Tate did, unknown to Dakota.

* * *

"Mom?" She called tearfully, in a small voice, slamming the front door behind her. "Daddy?"

They weren't home. Something must have come up, and Dakota had told them she'd come home at eleven and not ten, so it was fairly reasonable of them to leave if they felt it was necessary.

Dakota kicked her heels off and ran upstairs, holding her dress up still, though nobody was even home. She had locked the door behind her with her own key.

Tate followed her, of course, and all he wanted to do was wrap her up in his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay.

She walked into her room and leaned against her wall, sighing with closed eyes and black tears streaming down her cheeks. The rain had soaked her hair, and she shivered uncontrollably.

"Dakota?" Tate called from outside her window, which was open a tiny crack- just enough for her to hear him over the rain. "Dakota!"

She took one glance at him and then turned around.

He was sure she didn't want to ever see him again, until he walked up to the front door, holding onto the tiniest of hopes that it would open any second now. And it did.

"Tate," she whispered shakily, her body still trembling.

"Dakota," he stepped inside and resisted the overwhelming urge to hug her tighter than he ever had before, if that was possible. But he didn't want to scare her off, so he stood a few steps back from her and just stared.

Dakota practically launched herself into his arms, which just seemed to feel like home to her. He was shocked, but instantly held her tightly against his chest, stroking her hair gently.

"He doesn't really want me," she choked out. "He told me he cared."

"Shh, I have you, I have you right here," Tate's voice cracked slightly, just at hearing and seeing her so upset. "I'm never going to leave you."

"I need you," she murmured. "I never wanted anyone else, I just want you, all the time, every second of every goddamn day."

"Hey, look at me, I'm right here," Tate said softly, bringing his head up from lightly leaning against hers to look at her. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm never going to stop coming after you every time you send me away."

"I didn't want to send you away," she looked up at him, a new wave of sobs coming over her after he said that. "You hurt me, Tate, why did you hurt me?"

Tate blinked back his own tears. "I didn't mean it, Kota, I would never want to hurt you. I promise. The thought or possibility of _anyone _hurting you... It makes me sick. All I ever wanted to do, since I saw you slicing your beautiful skin open, was protect you. That's all I'll ever want to do. Didn't I tell you I'd fix you every time you broke? Didn't I promise?"

She nodded, still staring up at him like a lost little kid.

"Dakota, I swear to you, I will never let myself do that to you again. You are the first person and the last person that I will ever love," Tate said, his voice shaking in that way that it always seemed to when he got as emotional as he was now. "Will you let me stay with you? Please?"

She nodded again, her words failing her.

Yes, there was something dark about Tate Langdon. There was something more than a little 'off' about him. More than a little unsettling. But there was also many wonderful things about them, and she knew she'd have to find a way to get the answers she needed if they were going to be together, because she couldn't afford to lose him and all these wonderful things and feelings... But tonight, it felt like all she really needed was to fall asleep in his arms and forget all of the pain.

Dakota's dad had always told her that humans were not medicine, and therefore could not cure people of anything psychological. But Tate and that smile of his that warmed her heart and those words of his that filled her head like a melody were pretty damn close.

* * *

**AN: Okay, so there's loveable lil Cameron dropping the act and showing his true colours, although he was pretty drunk. Honestly, it was just another way to show Dakota who she really belongs with. Expect a lot more Takota in the next few chapters and some fluff :) I hope you liked this one guys, as always, please review!**

**Fun fact: I had an idea that maybe Tate could have actually killed Dakota in the last chapter when he was strangling her and it could all come out that she's already dead later but then I was like nah that's going to torture me and everyone else and we still have so much more stuff to happen in this story. So no, no way haha. That's definitely not happening but wow, imagine if it had?**

**I really liked writing her nightmare in this chapter and you can expect that to be discussed between them in the next update which will be up soon.**


	11. Chapter 11: You Belong to Me

**AN: Okay, so this chapter explores how complicated and tainted Takota really is. Ugh I just love their ship name aha. Thankyou Cloudcity'sBookworm! I need your opinion on something else, guys, next chapter do you want more drama or more cute fluff and just conversations between Tate and Dakota? I might bring Hayden into the next chapter, too. And I doubt I'll use the rubberman because one of my most loyal reviewers gave me their opinion on it, and I realised how there's honestly enough drama. The shooting is enough to leave Dakota confused and probably conflicted when she finds out about it, but the rubber man, too, might just make it a no-brainer for her to tell him to "go away" as soon as she knows. I'm not certain on that, yet, so keep giving me your opinions like if you want to see RM or not, it helps.**

**I'm so sorry I took a while to update, I've been busy and this took a while to get right. It's a pretty long chapter and I feel like I balanced the fluff and drama better than usual so yeah, enjoy and please review! PM me any additions questions, ideas or opinions.**

**And yes, I used the name of the creepy song from the first scene of the pilot episode which is also used in the finale of Murder House in this chapter because I thought it would just be cool to use it, so yeah :)**

**Guest: Wow, thankyou so much! I'm glad you're liking my story and writing.**

**Cloudcity'sBookwarm: As always, I'm so grateful for you and your reviews and lovely comments :) Thankyou! And yeah, this might be the last you see of Cameron for a while in this chapter, it depends on how things go in the next one- but my goal was to make you guys really start to like him then begin to hate him, I hope I've achieved that aha. I'm also glad you liked the nightmare scene, it's mentioned again in this chapter :)**

**ZeldaZonkk: It makes me so so happy that you're so enthusiastic about my story, you have no idea how much that review made me smile :) Thankyou!**

**LaraPendrington: I PM'd you but I'd just like to thank you again for your review :)**

* * *

Constance had heard a car pull up outside Dakota's house and watched the scene unfold. She was actually about to go outside and do something about it, and Tate saw her, though he didn't look like he appreciated it. However, Dakota was running back inside before she could say a word. That didn't stop Constance from confronting Cameron.

"I swear to god, boy, if you touch that girl again I will break your goddamn arm. Don't come by this house another time or you'll regret it," she saw the fear in his eyes and smiled, satisfied.

"W-who are you?" Cameron asked shakily.

"You don't need to know that, just pray that you don't find yourself outside this house again and you won't need to worry about it," Constance turned to leave. "You're lucky you got me, some people around here... They would never be so kind."

She had gotten her newly styled hair dripping wet, and although Tate hasn't witnessed it; she'd make sure he found out. Moira had seen, unknown to Constance, and she had to give the woman at least a little bit of credit. Constance rarely cared if it didn't benefit her, so perhaps her involvement was just a way to apologise to Tate. Either way, it was a surprising effort, and a rare one.

* * *

"You saw what happened, didn't you?" Dakota asked as Tate carried her upstairs, because she was drunk and that was a perfect excuse to hold her in his arms.

"Yeah, and if he shows his face here again he's going to find my fist bashing it in," he muttered, setting her down gently on her bed.

"Oh, I can handle myself fine, Tate," she smirked, remembering something that had happened a couple years ago. "This guy was dating Cara, and she was so goddamn happy. But I knew there was something about him that wasn't right. So we were at her house, and he was drunk. I wasn't, I had decided to be the responsible one for once. Anyway, she went as far as the other room, and he started hitting on me. I made it clear that I wasn't interested and when he tried to touch me I broke his arm, somehow. I guess I was pretty mad."

Tate laughed for a second, then frowned, as if he had realised something terrible. "That's horrible."

"Well he deserved it-"

"No, what he did to your friend," Tate said, deep in thought. "If you love someone, you should never hurt them."

"I know," Dakota looked down for a second, thinking about what had happened between them the last time they had spoken. She was sure he was thinking about it, too. "I really miss her. She would have never let me have anything to do with Cameron. She knew how to keep me safe. That's what we did. We kept eachother safe. But I couldn't keep her safe, that day, the day she died. I think I tried to, I can't remember. I must have tried, I would have died for her, you know? She was like the sister I never had."

Tate looked down. "I'm sorry you lost your friend."

"Me too."

"I can keep you safe, now. I can always keep you safe, Dakota."

"Then why didn't you stop him?" She asked after a moment of silence.

"I was too far away to do you any good, you had it handled before I got there," he said convincingly. Yet for some reason, it didn't add up to Dakota. It just... It just didn't.

"Oh," she murmured, feeling her eyes begin to get heavy. "I don't usually sleep this early, but I'm..."

"Drunk," Tate finished for her with a smirk. "Tell me it wasn't the punch."

"It was the punch," Dakota laughed, standing up with his assistance.

"You want me to, uh..." He began, and she turned around.

"Yeah, if you don't mind."

"There's worse ways I could be spending my Friday night," he smiled, un-zipping her dress for her. "Trust me."

Dakota laughed, almost nervously. It was just weird, the whole thing.

"I should probably go, right?" Tate asked, stepping back from her when he was done, though it was clear he wanted to stay.

"No," Dakota shook her head. "I want you to stay with me, Tate."

He nodded, and turned to walk away so she could change into something more comfortable; but she gently pulled him back. They just stared at eachother for a second, their gazes flickering to and from each other's eyes and lips.

She was about to kiss him, but he stopped her. "Dakota, no..."

She frowned, hurt. "Why not?"

"Because," he began. "I want you to remember our first kiss, and you're clearly drunk right now."

She said nothing for a moment and folded her arms. "Yeah, whatever you say," she muttered, manoeuvring out of her dress while he looked away. "God, we're not in middle school, Tate. You can look if you want, I don't care. It's not like we're having sex. You're acting like you're my gay best friend, except even a gay best friend wouldn't turn away like-"

"I'm not gay, Dakota," he snapped, irritated. "I'm just not taking advantage of you while you're goddamn drunk, okay? I'm not Cameron."

"Fine, but I already know you're not like him or anybody else," she said, climbing into her bed. "I trust you. You're different."

Tate lay down beside her. "Did he hurt you?"

Dakota snorted in laughter. "No, are you kidding? The worst he could do was rip my goddamn dress. I'm going to blackmail him until he fucking pays for it, it was new."

Tate found himself laughing harder than he had in a long time. She brought out the best in him, parts of him he never knew had existed. He was also aware of the fact that she seemed to bring out the worst of him, or awaken it, at least. But she was worth all of the pain.

She lay her head down against his shoulder, but then something occurred to her. "Wait, my mom and dad, they're going to be confused that I'm home when I get back, I should call them-"

Tate shook his head. "I'll take care of it. I saw them leave, they had to go sort something out to do with your Grandma. Don't worry about it, just get some sleep."

She nodded, feeling herself drift off against him in contentment.

* * *

At some point while it was dark, she woke up to the SWAT team from her previous nightmare bursting into her bedroom, yet again.

She immediately looked up at Tate, who let go of her and stood up.

"W-why are you here?" She sat up and asked the men shakily.

"He did something bad," one of them replied, appearing behind her out of nowhere. She screamed, scrambling back from him, eyes wide. He had his gun trained on her heart. "Don't you remember?"

This didn't seem real. It didn't seem like something a member of a SWAT team would say. In fact, he shouldn't have told her anything at all.

Dakota stood up, staring at Tate who had this look of knowing, of some kind of insight that she didn't have on his face. This strange, frightening look.

"Tate, what is he talking about?" She didn't demand it, but it was clear she was getting uptight. Of course she was. There was a heavily armed SWAT team in her room with their guns trained on the boy she loved's chest, as well as her own. Red lines beamed from the guns.

Tate didn't even look at her.

"Tate, what is he talking about?" She repeated, more agitated. "Tate!"

He finally looked down at her, then glanced at her chest. A dark scarlet stain was seeping through her shirt.

"What happened to me?" She asked in horror, her body trembling from sobs.

He looked down for a second, then he grabbed her hand and held it tightly. "I'm here. I'll always be here."

"Tate, I'm scared."

"I'm here, I'll always be here."

"But-"

"I'm here, I'll always be here."

"You're scaring me!"

"Don't be scared. It won't hurt, I promise," he murmured, and she just stared at him, trembling.

"What won't hurt? W-what are you talking about?"

He looked at her sadly, almost like he pitied her for a few seconds. And then, he stared back at the SWAT team. His expression was so indescribable, it was just incredibly intense and... She'd seen that look on his face before, it always happened before he did something bad, ironically enough.

Tate gradually squeezed Dakota's hand tighter as he slowly raised his other one, just like he had in her nightmare. He made it seem like his hand was a gun, again.

"No! Tate, stop!" She tried to disentangle her fingers from his but he clutched her hand so tight that she couldn't move it, and it hurt. She tugged on his free arm, trying to make him snap out of it. "Tate, please-"

He pulled his own invisible trigger and she waited for what she knew would happen next, the inevitable.

Tate turned and reached for a gun under her pillow, pulling her with him. And then his body shook violently, the bullets entering his chest over and over.

"No!" She screamed, and it was a horrible, pained, anguished scream. It wasn't just fear. "Tate!"

"Dakota!" she jolted awake with him shaking her shoulders roughly, looking down at her in concern. "It was just a nightmare, I'm here. It's okay, I've got you."

He gently pulled her up into a sitting position. "What happened?"

"Don't you ever die on me," she exhaled a shaky breath, ignoring her question. "You promise you won't do that to me?"

He pulled her against his chest. "I promise."

But Dakota couldn't see his face, she couldn't see the sorrow in it, the guilt.

"You've died twice this week, in my dreams, in my nightmares. In the same way, except the last one felt like it was really happening. They shot you."

"Who did?" He asked in a hushed voice, trying to seem oblivious, but he knew the answer.

"The SWAT team. They shot me, too, in the first one. This time they walked in and I asked why they were here. One of them told me that you'd done... Something bad, and asked me didn't I remember. So I asked you, and I told you I was scared. You just kept saying 'I'm here, I'll always be here.'"

He said nothing, trying not to get emotional. If he got too sensitive about this then she'd know that something similar really happened in the room they were sitting in right now.

"And then you told me not to be scared, that it wouldn't hurt. You told me the same thing the first time, and I died with you; they shot me too. You tried to pull a gun on them from under my pillow, and you did this thing with your hand like you were pulling your own trigger... I was bleeding from the start, before they shot me, from this," she shuffled back a few inches and pulled her top down slightly to reveal her scar from the shooting.

When he saw it, he quickly looked away.

Dakota frowned. "I'm sorry, does it repulse you so much that I have a damn scar, Tate?"

"No," he said quickly. "Well, yeah. But not in the way that you think. I just hate the idea of you being hurt by... Someone."

Dakota looked away. "I'm fine, Tate."

"Did it hurt?" He asked, staring intently at her. "When he shot you, at your school, did it hurt?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she swallowed, still not making eye contact with him.

"You can't just shut me out, Dakota."

"I'm not shutting _you_ out, I'm shutting the memories out, you fucking insensitive narcissist!" She yelled, finally looking at him. Then her expression softened. "I'm sorry, that's not true. You're anything but insensitive and you're definitely not a narcissist, you care about me a lot, I know you do. I'm sorry."

"Well answer the question then," he muttered, and it was his turn to look away to mask the hurt on his face that he knew she'd already seen.

Dakota sighed. "Yeah, it hurt. I remember it feeling like my chest was burning from the inside out and collapsing at the same time. It was horrible. He made me wish I was dead..."

Tate flinched, still looking away, avoiding her gaze.

"The thing I remember most is the pain, I think. The rest of it is all fragmented and confusing," she continued in a quiet voice. "I remember being in the hospital, and being hooked up to all these tubes that were keeping me alive, and being afraid to move. It hurt to breathe. I heard them telling my mom and dad that they were sure I wouldn't make it, and that made me determined to try harder. The worst part was that when I initially woke up, I didn't want to exist. Because since that day, I can only seem to see the worst in people. I'm right to, but still... I lost more than most of my blood and my best friend that day."

"Well you won't ever lose me," Tate said eventually after a few seconds of silence. "C'mon, go to sleep, Kota. I'm right here, I'll wake you up if I think you're having another nightmare."

"I'm scared I'll lose you every time I close my eyes, Tate, I don't want to sleep," Dakota said in a pleading way, like she was a child begging her mom to let her stay awake later than usual.

Tate sighed, laying back down. "Just lie here with me then, I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do. You don't have to sleep, it's okay."

He knew she'd end up falling asleep, anyway. He hated the idea of her losing sleep over him, for any reason.

"Are my mom and dad back?" Dakota yawned, curling up into him.

"No, you were only asleep for half an hour," he replied, supporting her head with his arm.

"What if they walk in and see you?"

Tate smirked. "Don't worry, I have a way of making myself pretty invisible when I have to."

He glanced down at her to see if she had reacted in a puzzled way, because it would only be natural to after what he had just said. But she was sound asleep. He stared at her, at how peaceful she looked, but so fragile. The world was too cruel for a girl like Dakota.

* * *

The next morning when Dakota woke up, Tate was gone. She began to panic and wonder if last night had been a dream, or a fantasy, since she had consumed a fair amount of alcohol. She went downstairs after getting changed into jeans and a camisole top.

Her mom and dad were eating pancakes in the kitchen, looking miserable. They instantly perked up when they saw Dakota, but she could tell it was completely fake.

"Hey, baby, did you have a good night?" Her mom asked brightly.

Lying seemed to come naturally to Dakota, so she didn't hesitate to smile and nod.

"And Cameron didn't enter the house while we were out, did he?" Her dad asked, in a serious tone.

She laughed at the irony of it, since it technically wouldn't be a lie if she said that he didn't, which was exactly what she did. "No, dad, you don't have to worry about me."

He smiled. "You're my little girl, and you always will be. I'm never going to stop worrying about you."

Dakota couldn't help but feel overwhelming happiness at how protective her dad was being. It made her feel appreciated, and loved like she used to be. It made her believe that they could still be a family. Not a perfect family, but a family. And really, that was all she wanted.

"Where did you guys go last night?" Dakota sat down, and thanked Moira for a warm plate of pancakes, who she noticed couldn't seem to make eye contact with her. "I can home early, the party got boring after a while and Cameron had to get home, too." She tried to say Cameron's name without any hint of resentment, though it was difficult.

"We had to handle something else about the funeral, and we rescheduled it for tomorrow, is that alright?" Her dad asked, patronising her because she really had no imput. He was only trying to be considerate of her feelings, of course.

"Of course," Dakota said softly, taking a few large bites of the pancakes before her, which tasted pretty damn good. Then she noticed her mom looked down.

"Something else happened, didn't it?" She asked her parents, frowning.

"What makes you say-" her dad began quickly, but her mom sighed and cut him off.

"Your Grandma had a letter written to... You, Dakota."

"Where is it?" Dakota asked immediately, anxious to find out and read it.

"Honey... We think it would be best if you didn't read it," her dad said carefully, waiting for her to practically explode.

"What did you do with it?" She asked, bitterness creeping into her tone.

"We put it somewhere safe..." Her mom replied, avoiding eye contact with her completely.

"This is bullshit," Dakota snapped, standing up. "I knew it was too good to be true, us being anywhere _close _to okay again, not even happy- just okay. I knew it!"

"Dakota-" her mom began, but she ran outside and slammed the door. They didn't follow her, and she felt a pinch of guilt when she heard her mom sobbing and her dad attempting to console her.

She walked round to her backyard and climbed the tree without much difficulty. It wasn't pine or sycamore any other type that she recognised, and it was beaten and fragile looking. Yet, it looked ancient and archaic. That's what she liked so much about it. It was worn, it had been through so many winters, and it had withstood that damage. The tree didn't look like the other trees, and it wasn't simple, it had winding branches of all different shades and textures. It was just like Dakota, in many ways.

She pulled out a lighter and pack half full of cigarrettes, about to light one up when she heard familiar footsteps approaching.

"Where'd you get those?" Tate asked with a frown, climbing up to sit beside her. Their legs dangled over the thick branch, and they were at least ten feet above the ground, maybe more.

She shrugged. "Some girl last night, I think her name was Erica. She sits at the same table as me in school and we've spoken once or twice."

Dakota pressed down on the lighter, but Tate snatched it out of her hand.

"Shit, Tate!" She exclaimed, forgetting that her parents were fairly nearby, in the house. There was little chance they'd hear her, anyway, over her mom's wails of sorrow that Dakota could only hear faintly if she really, really focused on it. Though with Tate sitting beside her, she couldn't focus on anything but him. "You could have gotten your hand burned!"

"Well I'd rather that than watching you corrupt your lungs with that shit," he muttered, examining the lighter.

She sighed. "Just one? Please? I really need it right now."

Tate looked up from the lighter and to her. "Fine, one. After that, I'm taking that pack off of you," he said it reluctantly, but he knew he would give in easily to her as soon as he took the lighter. He couldn't deny her an escape from whatever was happening inside. He couldn't deny her _anything, _really. Not when she looked at him like that.

Dakota smiled. "You're my favourite person in the whole world, Tate."

He smirked. "Why? Because I'm letting you smoke a cigarette?"

"No," she paused and put the cigarrette in her mouth, leaning forward.

He lit it for her and gave her this look of pure love, like she was the best thing that had ever happened to him, because she was. Like she was the bright sun in the beautiful day and he was the blackest star in the dark sky, and somehow, they had collided. And it was tragically beautiful in every way.

She took a long drag and then she continued. "Because _you _are my escape, you are my sanctuary... Not the cigarrette. You're my paradise than I can go to anytime I want, and I want to be there forever. I want to be with you forever, like this. I wish it could always be this simple. This easy."

He glanced at the ground for a few seconds, wishing he could tell her that it could be like this forever if she really wanted it. But then she'd have to die and accept that he's dead and she'd find out what he had done to her in the past. This could never end without ultimate destruction, really. Because violent delights meet violent ends- and theirs was about as violent as they come.

"Me too," he said it so softly that it sounded like a whisper. "You looked beautiful last night, you know. You always do, but you looked like something from an old Hollywood movie. Like that one unforgettable girl who always has to die at the end."

She smiled at first, but it contorted into a concerned frown. "Are you saying that I... That I have to die?"

"What?" Tate asked, his brows furrowed in confusion. Then realisation flooded into his features. "Oh, no, of course not. I'm saying that you're beautiful in my weird way of describing beautiful things. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she shook her head. "I like your weird way of describing beautiful things as long as you don't mean it in a literal sense. I like it when you call me beautiful, too."

He just smiled and gazed down at the early autumn leaves beginning to collect on the ground in the slight, gentle breeze. The breeze scattered the leaves around the yard over and over, yet the leaves returned the breeze every time.

That was the thing about such a gentle thing, it usually wasn't what it seemed to be; and it destroyed the fragile, crumpled creatures in it's wake- much like Tate did. He was the autumn breeze collecting Dakota as the crumbled leaves up into a neat little pile only to scatter it all apart in the end and leave them more damaged than they were before.

"Lie to me again," she said with a sad smile, rubbing the end of the cigarette into the tree bark, leaving another mark, another memory on it.

"I didn't mean it," he replied solemnly after a few seconds, bringing his gaze back up to her. "When I strangled you. I guess I lied when I told you that I didn't mean it. But you're beautiful, Dakota, that wasn't a lie. Don't you ever forget it."

Dakota swallowed. "You meant to almost choke me to death?"

"I did, now I that I think about it," he nodded, and his eyes flitted down to the ground, then back to her with a new intensity. "Because you should know that I can do terrible things to the ones I should love the most, even when I don't want to. So, yes, and no. I didn't mean to hurt you but when it was over and done with, though it disgusted me, I was glad that you knew what you were getting yourself into."

"Are you telling me that you have some kind of split personality disorder?" She asked after a moment, struggling to fully comprehend what he had just said.

"No, I'm telling you that there's a darkness to me that I can't always control."

"Then... I'll be your light," she took his hand. His skin was calloused and her skin was soft. "I'll block it out. I will."

Tate guided her hand up to his cheek and let go, bringing his against hers. He brought his other hand behind her neck and slowly leaned in to kiss her. And god, it was everything a kiss should be. It was passionate but it was gentle. It was so special, somehow. Probably because it was him, Tate made everything special for Dakota.

When he finally broke it off before things got too intense, he smiled at her and said: "Told you you'd want to remember it."

* * *

Dakota spent most of the day with Tate, until she was forced to come inside and enjoy a "wholesome family meal." It was cooked by Moira, of course, and it was lovely. The whole thing would have been lovely if he parents could just have given her the damn letter. Now it was the elephant in the room.

"So, did you enjoy spending today outside?" Her dad asked. "Did you get a little alone time?"

"Oh, I wasn't alone," she smirked.

"Dakota, I told you that Cameron couldn't come here-"

"It wasn't Cameron," she cut him off.

"Then who was it?" He asked, perplexed.

"I'd be more concerned about trying to hide _this, _from me, dad," Dakota pulled the letter out from her lap, under the table. Tate had pulled it out of his pocket when she was called inside and told her that he had overheard them saying they were going to leave it in her scrapbook so that when she wanted to remember upsetting things, she'd find it and be emotionally ready to do so. He had, of course, taken it and given her it.

"Where did you find that?" Her mom asked, frowning.

"Does it matter?" Dakota asked, beginning to carefully open the letter.

"Dakota, please," her mom rubbed her temple with her hands, closing her eyes. "Not here, not now. Please, honey."

"Fine," she muttered, only because she cared about her parent's feelings and didn't want to be the source of their sadness. "I'll take it upstairs. If you would have just let me read it like Grandma would have wanted me to, then we wouldn't be having all of this upset. And you should never have read it, anyway, it's private between my Grandmother and I. You had no goddamn right!"

Before they could object, she stood up and darted upstairs, eager to read it. She was anxious, too, and almost dreaded it in a sense. Her parents had seemed upset about it, and not just because it was her Grandma writing to her who was now, of course, dead- but for a different, more complicated reason.

* * *

**Dear Dakota,**

**Firstly, I would like you to know that I love and admire you more than I could ever show in this letter. You will become a wonderful woman soon enough, don't lose your spark. Don't lose your light.**

**Secondly, you must know something: The devil is real. And he is not a little red man with horns and a tail. He can be beautiful. Because he's a fallen angel, and he used to be God's favourite.**

**Believe me, you have looked into his eyes. **

* * *

Dakota found herself remembering her Grandma always having strong intuition, but she'd never claimed to be psychic or anything of the sort. Another thing that unsettled her was that this letter was dated to have been written before she had met Tate, who sprung to mind as soon as she read those words, somehow.

She shuddered and neatly tucked the letter under her pillow, then sneaked outside. Her parents had the television on, and they were probably planning some kind of heart to heart with her; so they didn't hear her.

Tate leaned against the tree, pretending that he had just been waiting for her to come back out. His face lit up when he saw her and he stepped towards her, then leaned in to kiss her.

"No, Tate... We need to talk," she shook her head and stopped him.

"About what?" He asked, his expression instantly turning into one of concern.

"I don't know how to... I'm just going to say it; I think you're hiding something from me," she said, trying not to break off eye contact before he did, but it was difficult. She was just waiting for him to get angry and lose control.

"Why would you think that?" Tate asked, almost like he was the one that should be suspicious of her.

"Because when I bring up things that don't make sense about you and your actions and words, you just cut me off and change the subject," Dakota began carefully, fighting the urge to step back and create a little distance between them. She couldn't seem submissive or weak here, she was determined to obtain answers. "You don't explain things that I ask you to, you don't ever invite me over to your house... So what is it? Is it me?"

Tate just stared at her for at least half a minute, and it began to make her nervous. "I can't invite you to my house, Dakota, you know I can't. Your dad doesn't want me around, he doesn't even want to treat me anymore."

"You never did explain why you were seeing him in the first place," she said, folding her arms. "Why?"

"Don't ask questions you already know the answers to-"

"But I don't know _anything__, _Tate, because you never tell me!" She exclaimed, irritated. "I only seem to know what you want me to know, and I'm sick of it! I tell you anything you want me to, I tell you about my day, I tell you about the people I talk to, I tell you about my parents, my nightmares, I tell you about the shooting! You know every single one of my 3am thoughts!"

He said nothing, just staring at her with a blank expression on his face, and if she were thinking straight, she would have finished at that. But she wasn't. She wasn't thinking at all.

"You talk about this _darkness, _and I'm starting to think that maybe it's something you made up as an excuse for all the shitty things that you say and do-"

He grabbed her shoulders and forced her against the tree. "Are you scared?"

"No," Dakota swallowed nervously, completely lying.

"How about now?" He brought one of his hands closer to her throat.

"No, because you're not going to hurt me, Tate. I don't know what you're trying to prove, but I want you to cut the shit and answer my goddamn questions," she tried to bring her back off of the tree, and he let her, only to slam her back into it. She let out a small yelp. "Tate!"

"You're scared," he said simply, releasing her but leaned both hands against the bark beside each of her shoulders, so she still couldn't really move. "Why can't you just admit it?"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Dakota asked, anger creeping into her voice. "You tell me you love me. You tell me you'll never let anyone or anything hurt me. You hurt me. You tell me you're sorry, you tell me you didn't mean it. And then you tell me you did mean it, and then you hurt me again!"

"Because I'm trying to show you that this isn't going to work!" He exclaimed in frustration, stepping back from her.

"W-what are you saying?" She asked in a small voice, though she knew exactly what he was saying. "What do you mean?"

"I don't think we can be together, anymore, Dakota," he said firmly, but his voice shook. She knew he wanted her, maybe even more than she wanted him. So why was he doing this?

"You don't mean that," she shook her head in disbelief, stepping towards him. "You don't."

"I can't do this to you anymore, Kota, I don't want to hurt you again," his voice cracked. "I'm sorry."

"Tate, you're the only thing keeping me from falling apart, you can't do this to me!" She grabbed his arms, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes. "Please don't leave me..."

He stared down at her with a conflicted expression, but there was some pity in his eyes, too, and guilt. "I have to. I'm doing this because I love you."

"No," she whimpered, shaking her head again. "No, we can fix this! I don't care if you have issues, I do too. I can make the darkness leave you alone, I can make it go away!"

"You can't fix me... I'm sorry," he planted a soft kiss on her forehead and wrapped his arms around her, carelessly wiping his own tears away while her body trembled violently with sobs. "I'm sorry."

And then he let her go and turned to pretend to leave before her pleading and crying made him change his mind.

"You said you'd always be here, you said you'd never leave me!" She ran alongside him, and stopped in front of him, blocking his path. "You promised."

"Dakota, get out of my way," Tate said as steadily as he could, taking a deep breathe and blinking slowly first.

"No!"

"Get out of my way!"

"_No!"_

Tate sighed in frustration and shoved her aside as carefully as he could, then darted away from her to her front yard.

"Tate!" She cried, but when she ran out after him and turned the corner into her front yard he was gone.

"Tate..." Her voice was reduced to a small whimper, and she slid down against the side of the house with her head in her hands.

* * *

Tate watched her cry and eventually had to turn away and disappear into the basement. He knew they'd end up together again, but if he at least tried to leave her, at least he couldn't blame himself when he really destroyed her in the end.

He had been denying it for a long time, that he was hurting her every second her was with her. But he had to try and see if she could move on, even though he knew he never could. Running away from her was the most difficult thing he had ever done.

"Rough day, huh?" Chad smirked, approaching him.

"Don't you have Patrick to stalk all day? Or did he finally just tell you to go away, because he doesn't love you?" Tate asked with mock interest, tilting his head.

"That girl doesn't love you, either. You're going to regret leaving her like that, because you know what she's going to do? She's going to let that other boy back into her house. And do you know what they're going to do?"

Tate glared at him. "She'll never talk to Cameron again. You're wrong about Dakota."

"Oh, people do dangerous things when the one they love leaves them, Tate," Chad turned to leave. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

* * *

The next morning, at breakfast, Dakota's parents decided to have their talk with her, about the letter.

She had fought the urge to hurt herself last night, falling asleep as soon as she lay down; because she had taken two sleeping pills. She didn't have any nightmares, and found herself forgetting their conversation yesterday when she woke up without his arms around her, confused for a few seconds. Then the memories came back of his words: _"I don't think we can be together anymore, Dakota." "You can't fix me." "Get out of my way!"_

Dakota got dressed into a nice outfit, and she applied her makeup as usual. She brushed her hair and she made sure she wiped every tear that had escaped her eyes upon waking and concealed any trace of redness or puffiness around her eyes. And then she went downstairs to face the day without him.

* * *

"You read the letter, didn't you?" Her mom asked, breaking the silence over morning coffee and cereal.

Dakota just nodded.

"You know, honey, Grandma was very sick when she wrote it, and not just physically-" her mom began gently, but Dakota cut her off.

"I know, mom, you don't have to reassure me. It's okay. Where's dad?" She quickly changed the subject.

"He went out to collect his suit for the funeral tomorrow."

"Are you okay, mom?" Dakota asked softly, turning to her mom.

"Yeah, your Grandma is happy and free now. She was so proud of you, you know. We all are. And we're sorry, for reading that letter before you were able to. I mean, I'm never exactly going to be okay with the fact that my mom isn't with me anymore. I know you're going to find it tough without your Grandma, and your father and I weren't helping you by hiding her letter to you. I really am sorry, honey," she smiled weakly and stroked her daughter's cheek soothingly.

"I forgive you, mom, it's okay," Dakota hugged her mom tightly. God, hugs with her mom just made her feel better about everything. Even Tate.

* * *

The remainder of the day was uneventful, and Dakota found herself disappointed when she woke up from a dreamless, peaceful sleep. She would have coped with the nightmares if she got to see his face in them.

She wore a tight lace dress, because her Grandma had always told her to "show her assets off" at any chance she could. It wasn't see though or too short, it was just how her Grandma would have wanted it to be. It was classy, and it was feminine, but it was... Well, it was sexy. Her Grandma had always been a glamorous, stylish woman in her youth, and inspired Dakota to be the same. She had been beautiful even in old age, but polaroids from the past revealed a movie star-esque young woman that Dakota idolised.

She wore Mary Jane heels that made a clinking noise as she took a deep breathe and stood up to sing at her Grandma's funeral. People she knew and people she had never seen in her life watching her with pity, but also with admiration.

She sung a slowed down, haunting rendition of her Grandma's favourite song from her younger years. The song was entitled "Tonight You Belong to Me." Dakota played piano for the first time since before the shooting, and felt herself become lost in the music. It was a nice escape, temporary as it was.

She received a standing ovation and her mom had proudly and tearfully video-taped the performance. Her dad had this look on his face that made Dakota feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He just looked so proud. If only she could have Tate to go home to that night, and cry to, and kiss... But it wouldn't happen. He had left her all alone like he said he never would.

* * *

Her parents had let her go to school after the service, because she had told them that it would distract her from the sadness surrounding the whole day- which wasn't a lie.

Sasha comforted her, of course, to the point where she was smothering Dakota with her loose hugs and "she's in a better place now" bullshit. Dakota wanted to tell her that the better place was where she could be alive and well, with her family, but she knew that if a Heaven existed- it really _was _a better place than the hell called Earth that she resided in. Maybe Sasha was right.

Towards the end of the day as Dakota collected books from her locker to study with, Cameron made an appearance.

"Dakota, I'm so sorry. About everything. About your Grandma, about the dance... I'm sorry. I was drunk and stupid. I was an asshole. Please just... Don't stop talking to me. Give me a chance to at least be your friend?"

His words sounded so heartfelt and genuine to Dakota that she couldn't seem to help herself from agreeing. But really, she'd accept any love of any kind from anyone right now. It was how she was unknowingly dealing with rejection, since she had never experienced it quite like this before.

That night, she cut herself again. Tate didn't see her do it, he was sulking in the basement. He knew if he saw her, he'd crumble and give in. He couldn't do that to her, it just wasn't fair.

* * *

Dakota's parents were out for a romantic meal the next evening, or that was what they had told her, anyway. She spent half an hour listening to music in her room, reading. But then there was a knock at the door.

"Cameron?" She asked in surprise, and he smiled.

"I thought you could use a friend right now."

She let him inside without even thinking it through, it was like she had forgotten what had happened between them just a few nights ago; what he had done to her.

"I was just sitting around, anyway," she said, leading him up to her room. "Sit down, if you want."

They both sat in her bed, and he offered her a cigarette, which she accepted. But it wasn't just a cigarette. It was a joint. She hadn't even noticed him rolling it, distracted by her thoughts.

"You ever done this before?" He asked as she took her first drag.

"Yeah, a couple times," she lied, and after a few minutes, began to feel numb. She liked the feeling. It was pretty much instant. She didn't even consider the consequences. She knew she should feel high, and she did, but it didn't only make her a weird kind of happy- it blocked out the pain.

"Was the funeral tough?"

"Yeah, I hate funerals. They're more for the living than the dead, anyway, and they might provide some people with closure; but today poured more salt into my wounds, you know?" She asked, resisting the urge to lie back. She had taken two sleeping pills to get her through the night before Cameron had spontaneously showed up.

Once they were done smoking, he kissed her, and she felt herself kissing him back. "Do you want this?"

She didn't answer him, but she didn't stop him either, when he pulled her shirt off and began kissing her neck.

"You ever done _this _before?"

* * *

Tate was sure he had heard the door being knocked, and paced around the basement for at least fifteen minutes before his uncertainty got the better of him.

He smelled the marijuana straight away and frowned, making his way into her bedroom just as Cameron pulled her shirt off.

"You ever done _this _before?"

Tate felt bile rise in his throat and turned to leave. She wasn't stopping him. He couldn't do anything about it.

But then he heard it. A quiet sob. And then another. At this point, they hadn't actually gotten anywhere and she was fully clothed apart from her shirt. But she was crying.

Cameron stopped kissing her. "Are you worried it's going to hurt or something?"

"No, I don't... I don't really want this," she said eventually. "Can you- Can you go?"

"Seriously?" He huffed in frustration.

"Yeah, I feel tired. I feel like I'm going to fall asleep, so... Could you just let yourself out or... Something?" She asked, fear creeping into her voice. She was trying hard to hide it, but she wasn't doing a great job. She also sounded like she would fall asleep at any moment.

"Other girls would kill for this, you know," Cameron muttered, tugging at her skirt, almost playfully. She slapped his hand away.

"Well I'm not other girls, I'm my own person," she snapped, anger replacing her fear. "Take your joints and leave, go fuck a cheerleader or something. You know, now that I think about it, I actually wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire; let alone give you my virginity. I'm starting to remember that you're not a sweet, thoughtful guy, you're a narcissistic little boy obsessed with getting some- and I want you to get out."

Tate smirked, he loved that about her. The way her sarcasm just popped out at the most unexpected moments. He wanted to snap Cameron's neck, but at the same time, if he didn't need to interfere he wouldn't. He wanted to spare Dakota the confusion and let her deal with him herself.

"Do you really?" Cameron asked, tilting his head fake-thoughtfully. "Because girls like you only get high to forget someone, or something. And you would never have let me in here if you weren't feeling lonely."

Dakota just looked down, not answering him, because he was right. She felt herself becoming drowsy again after her little spit-fire of sarcasm and he went back to kissing her neck.

"I think you're just sad, Dakota," he said, pushing her lightly onto her back. "But I can make you feel better."

Panic set in again, and she shuddered at the feeling of his warm body against her cold one. She was almost fully clothed and he was still completely clothed, but it still felt so wrong.

"No, I don't need you to make me feel better, please. Please don't!" her voice cracked with a sob. "Please don't..."

His hand slid up her leg to her thigh, under her skirt and she squirmed under his weight, trying to shove him off.

Tate couldn't let it go any further, realising that she wasn't going to get herself out of this one. He pretended to burst through the doorway, since nobody could know he was of course a ghost. "Get off of her. Right now." His words were precise and deadly, but somewhat calm.

Cameron turned his head to look up at Tate. "Who the hell are you?"

"Assholes like you are the people that make this world so goddamn shitty and dirty. Get off, I won't ask you again," Tate growled.

Cameron glanced down at Dakota again, who looked drowsy. He rolled off of her and stood up, obviously seeing something in Tate's eyes. The darkness that was consuming them.

"What did you do to her? Did you drug her?" Tate asked, his voice growing louder, more aggressive. He grabbed Cameron by the shirt collar and shoved him against the wall.

"I let her smoke a joint, that's all, man," Cameron said quickly, his voice shaking in fear. "She was into it at first... I was going to stop, I swear."

"If you ever even _think _about touching Dakota again, I will fucking kill you," Tate spat, his voice shaking with rage. "I don't want you to look at her or glance at her, I don't want you to talk to her or about her, I don't even want you to think about her. Or I'll do it, I'll kill you!"

"Alright, alright, okay!" Cameron nodded his head vigorously, eyes wide in fear and panic. "I won't go near her again, but you should know that I'm not the only guy in our school who wants to add that name to my list. I mean, she never said she had a boyfriend."

Tate just glared at him for a few seconds in disgust, then punched him hard in the face, then again, and then again. Cameron didn't stand a chance, and he was knocked out in seconds.

He let an unconscious Cameron slide down the wall onto the floor with an unceremonious 'thwack' and carelessly wiped the excess blood from his knuckles onto his pants. They were bruised from punching Cameron so hard. But god, it had been worth it to hear the crunching of his perfect little nose that his rich parents would have to have fixed up, and to see his dark blood flowing from it...

Dakota was lying on her back, shivering and still sobbing quietly with her eyes tightly closed.

"Oh, Dakota," Tate sighed, walking over to her slowly so he didn't startle her.

"Tate?" her eyes flickered open and she looked up at him in confusion, though she was certain of one thing. "You came back for me."

"Of course I did," he murmured, sitting on her bed and pulling her head onto his lap gently. "I always will."

She closed her eyes again, but his voice made them open straight back up, meeting with his like they were finally home again.

"Are you high? What did he do to you?"

"Yeah, you should smoke one, Tate, they make the pain go away," she smiled slightly, and he pulled her up into a sitting position carefully.

"Dakota, did he or did he not drug you?"

"He didn't drug me, I wanted..." she trailed off. "I just missed you. I only took two sleeping pills, don't worry..."

Tate sighed, and got up, guiding her head onto her pillow. "You really need to stop doing that."

"Are you going to leave me?"

"No," he grabbed her shirt from the floor and slipped it back on her. "I'm not going to leave you."

"I love you," she murmured, curling into him when he sat beside her. In that moment, he realised that he couldn't be with her or without her. They were both damned either way. Their love was truly tainted.

"I love you too."


End file.
